THE  DIPPERS 

BENTRAVERS  <* 


sity  oi  California 
them  Regional 
Diary  Facility 


rr/Y 

- 


THE  DIPPERS 


THE  DIPPERS 


BY 

BEN,  TRAVERS 


NEW    YORK:     JOHN    LANE    COMPANY 

LONDON:   JOHN  LANE,  THE  BODLEY  HEAD 

MCMXX 


Copyright,  1920, 
BY  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


Frets  of 

T.  T.  LITTLE  &  IVE»  COMPANY 
New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 
LAURENCE  IRVING 


2138516 


THE  DIPPERS 


THE  DIPPERS 


CHAPTER  I 

ON  a  pleasant  evening  in  summer,  Mr.  Henry 
Talboyes,  solicitor,  of  London,  bade  fare- 
well to  his  client,  Miss  Starchfield,  at  the  gate 
of  that  lady's  Dorsetshire  retreat,  and  set  off  upon 
a  cross-country  walk  to  the  small  outlying  station  of 
Mellingham.  He  had  made  a  note  of  a  main-line 
train  calling  at  the  more  convenient  depot  of  Coombe 
Puddy,  but  his  business  with  Miss  Starchfield  had  de- 
tained him  longer  than  he  had  anticipated.  Tal- 
boyes, however,  assured  his  hostess  that  the  prospect 
of  a  lengthy  stroll  in  the  sweet  air  of  the  country 
lanes  was  very  agreeable. 

A  less  amenable  man  might  have  paused  to  make 
inquiries  concerning  the  large  touring  car  in  the 
garage  at  the  back  of  the  house  and  the  chauffeur 
who  must  almost  have  forgotten  how  to  drive.  The 
owner  of  the  car  contented  herself  with  issuing  direc- 
tions as  to  how  Mellingham  was  to  be  reached  via 
the  fields;  and  the  solicitor  set  out  with  a  heavy  Glad- 
stone bag  and  a  suppressed  sigh. 

9 


io  THE  DIPPERS 

Miss  Starchfield  was  one  of  those  wealthy  and 
parsimonious  county  ladies  who  occupy  houses  sev- 
eral sizes  too  large  for  them,  and  who  turn  for 
amusement  to  the  bullying  of  poor  female  relations. 
She  seldom  invited  one  of  the  latter  to  Coombe 
Puddy,  but  she  exercised  a  rigid  discipline  over  them 
by  correspondence. 

The  poor  female  relations  were,  as  is  usual  in 
such  cases,  ladies  of  particularly  tractable  natures. 
They  vied  in  anxious  perjuries  on  the  subject  of  the 
tyrant's  health,  and  never  failed  to  observe  the  suc- 
cessive anniversaries  of  her  birth  with  insipid  letters 
of  congratulation  and  ill-afforded  gifts,  which  the  re- 
cipient invariably  designated  as  hideous  and  futile. 

Whenever  a  poor  relation  offended  Miss  Starch- 
field,  that  lady  employed  a  swift  and  subtle  method 
of  subduing  the  unruly  spirit — a  system  of  punish- 
ment by  suggestion  worthy  of  an  Oriental  potentate. 
She  sent  for  Mr.  Talboyes.  That  was  all.  In  the 
eyes  of  the  Starchfield  retainers  that  most  amiable 
of  men  had  long  assumed  the  part  of  a  Bloody  Bill 
to  the  acrimonious  Pirate  Chief  who  ruled  their  des- 
tinies. 

"Mr.  Talboyes  spent  the  day  with  me  last  Thurs- 
day"— Rosie  or  Amelia  would  receive  the  informa- 
tion and  would  lose  no  time  in  rubbing  it  into  Jane, 
whose  first-born,  Cuthbert,  was  known  to  have  com- 
mitted an  unpardonable  breach.  But  it  must  be  con- 


THE  DIPPERS  ii 

ceded  to  the  old  tyrant  that  when  Jane  had  bowed 
the  knee,  remonstrated  successfully  with  Cuthbert 
and  expressed  full  contrition  and  apology,  Mr.  Tal- 
boyes  spent  another  day  with  Aunt  Lucy,  and  the 
delinquent  was  understood  to  have  saved  her  bacon. 

Miss  Starchfield  was  easily  offended.  Talboyes 
was  always  at  Coombe  Puddy.  Indeed,  the  family 
was  often  racked  with  doubt  and  apprehension  as 
to  whether  any  particular  visit  was  punitive  or  salu- 
tary. Amelia  had  even  been  known  to  take  the  bold 
step  of  going  and  pumping  Mr.  Talboyes  in  his  of- 
fice. But,  though  she  found  him  to  be  a  most  sym- 
pathetic and  yielding  gentleman,  she  failed  to  gain 
any  decisive  information. 

Truth  to  tell,  Talboyes  was  himself  utterly  sub- 
jugated by  the  forceful  personality  of  his  best  client, 
and  would  have  been  haunted  by  her  avenging  figure 
had  he  dared  to  divulge  the  least  of  her  intentions. 
Meanwhile,  having  already  made  and  remade  Miss 
Starchfield's  will  a  score  of  times,  he  was  probably 
never  quite  certain  at  any  given  time  as  to  what  had 
been  the  decisions  arrived  at  during  the  last  visit  to 
the  country. 

On  this  particular  summer  evening  then,  Talboyes 
started  forth  across  the  fields  into  the  lane  said  to 
lead  to  Mellingham.  He  had  ample  time  for  his 
train,  but  the  evening  was  very  warm,  and  the  Glad- 
stone bag  was  heavy  with  notes  relating  to  a  recent 


12  THE  DIPPERS 

and  penal  aberration  on  the  part  of  Sylvia,  and  ab- 
solutions following  the  contrition  of  Harriet.  More- 
over, the  bag  itself  evinced  a  new  and  deplorable 
tendency  to  burst  open  at  inconvenient  moments. 

Talboyes  paused  for  breath  and  set  down  upon  a 
bank.  The  sweet  air  of  the  country  lanes  proved 
utterly  unresponsive  to  his  flattery.  He  was  stout. 
He  possessed  an  over-confidence  in  his  own  physical 
abilities,  or  perhaps  it  should  be  said  that  he  lacked 
the  spirit  to  tell  Miss  Starchfield  that  he  would  be 
blowed  if  he  walked,  and  that,  if  she  was  going  to 
alter  her  will  three  times  a  quarter,  she  could  jolly 
well  trot  her  car  out.  But  Talboyes  was  unfortu- 
nately disposed  to  be  rather  deferential  and  concil- 
iatory in  his  dealings  with  others,  especially  with 
ladies. 

He  sat  on  the  bank  and  cursed  this  admirable  trait 
of  his  nature.  Whatever  his  failings,  it  must  be  said 
he  had  fully  acknowledged  them  to  himself  every 
day  of  his  life.  He  admitted  and  deplored  his  in- 
herent docility.  He  realized  that  the  indecision  of 
manner  and  nervous  hesitation  of  speech  so  notice- 
able in  his  intercourse  were  justly  regarded  as  in- 
dicative of  a  weak  and  yielding  character.  He  knew 
full  well  how  unfavourably  he  compared  with  some 
men  of  his  acquaintance — men  of  commanding  per- 
sonality, men  warranted  to  stir  even  Miss  Starch- 
field's  chauffeur  into  a  sense  of  duty.  Then  he  re- 


THE  DIPPERS  13 

fleeted  on  the  strange  fact  that  such  men  seemed 
invariably  to  harbour  a  grievance. 

Talboyes  often  had  a  grievance,  but  he  never  har- 
boured one.  The  grievance  was  generally  attribut- 
able to  his  own  ineptitude  and  would  not  bear  har- 
bouring. The  other  men,  too,  seemed  always  to  be 
engaged  in  furious  altercations  with  each  other.  Tal- 
boyes had  not  an  enemy  in  the  world.  And  this  per- 
haps was  due  to  the  fact  that  he  savoured  the  morti- 
fications produced  by  his  own  mild  forbearance  with 
the  saving  grace  of  an  unconquerable  sense  of  hu- 
mour. 

Unconquerable  even  now,  when  he  turned  from 
cursing  at  himself  to  laughing  at  himself;  unconquer- 
able, when  a  glance  at  his  watch  warned  him  that  he 
must  be  again  on  the  move.  The  short  breather  had 
completely  restored  his  customary  good  humour. 
He  arose  and  stretched  his  limbs.  He  took  up  his 
Gladstone  bag.  It  flew  open  and  distributed  Miss 
Starchfield's  will  in  several  directions.  Talboyes 
failed  to  notice  until  that  moment  that  there  was 
after  all  quite  a  considerable  breeze.  He  had  to 
climb  into  a  field  where  there  was  a  bull  to  regain 
Harriet's  confession. 

Bathed  in  perspiration,  Talboyes  presently  pur- 
sued his  way  through  the  dusty  lanes,  and  sighed  for 
a  sight  of  the  streets  of  London  congested  with  taxi- 
cabs.  Here  he  looked  in  vain  for  any  sign  of  a 


I4  THE  DIPPERS 

conveyance.  So  desolate  was  the  view  that  he  could 
scarcely  believe  the  object  of  his  haste  was  a  train 
with  its  complement  of  human  passengers.  Now  he 
halted,  doubting  that  he  could  be  on  the  right  road. 
The  hopeless  lane  dragged  itself  wearily  onwards, 
apparently  to  nowhere.  The  horizon  betrayed  no 
sign  of  a  village,  and  as  for  a  railway  station — 

The  railway  station  of  Mellingham  was  not  strict- 
ly speaking  at  Mellingham,  but  was  situated  nearly 
two  miles  from  the  public  house  and  the  few  rows  of 
cottages  which  constituted  the  village.  The  reason 
for  this  was,  in  the  opinion  of  Old  Noony,  the  oldest 
inhabitant,  that  Mellingham  was  expected  to  extend 
as  far  as  the  station  "before" — as  he  rather  pessi- 
mistically expressed  it — "she  gets  finished  off  of." 
The  place,  he  said,  had  already  doubled  in  size  with- 
in his  remembrance.  Up  to  the  present,  however, 
Mellingham  had  steadily  refused  to  patronize  the 
railway.  The  majority  of  the  villagers  were  swayed 
by  a  conservative  mistrust  of  any  means  of  pro- 
gression swifter  than  a  market  cart.  A  few  took  an 
occasional  railway  journey  in  the  spirit  which  was 
influencing  more  enlightened  persons  to  travel  by 
aeroplane. 

Every  morning  and  evening  a  train  halted  at  the 
station,  vainly  calling  upon  the  inhabitants  to  be 
borne  eastwards  and  to  sample  the  delights  of  the 
great  and  wicked  metropolis;  but  it  was  found  that 


THE  DIPPERS  15 

one  aged  porter  sufficed  to  regulate  the  passenger 
traffic.  He  himself  still  entertained  vague  suspic- 
ions of  the  railway,  having  been  brought  up  to  re- 
gard it  as  a  comparatively  modern  improvement,  but 
he  enjoyed  the  autocracy  of  his  rule  at  the  station, 
where  he  first  served  out  any  tickets  that  might  be 
required  from  a  small  tin  enclosure  in  the  station 
yard,  and  afterwards  walked  round  to  clip  them  at 
a  little  gate  communicating  with  the  platform.  Some- 
where in  the  background  were  a  signalman  and  a 
small  boy,  and  in  the  back  parlour  of  the  Plough  Inn 
was  a  station  master;  but  the  porter  was  the  acknowl- 
edged representative  of  law  and  order  at  Melling- 
ham  station. 

On  this  particular  summer  evening  he  had  mus- 
tered an  unusually  large  number  of  persons  to  under- 
go the  ordeal  of  passing  the  platform  gate.  A  youth 
and  his  lady  friend,  with  bicycles  gaily  ornamented 
with  dead  wild  flowers,  were  causing  him  consider- 
able trouble.  At  the  critical  moment  the  youth  could 
only  display  his  bicycle  tickets,  and  was  attempting 
to  argue  that  these  provided  proof  that  his  passenger 
tickets  must  necessarily  exist.  A  party,  consisting 
of  an  old  woman,  a  younger  woman  and  a  little  boy 
who  carried  a  box-kite,  stood  awaiting  their  turn, 
racked  by  the  agitation  which  only  an  approaching 
train  can  impart  to  the  female  breast.  For  the  train 
was  due  and  could  be  heard  across  the  valley;  while 


1 6  THE  DIPPERS 

far  in  the  distance,  farther  it  seemed  than  the  train 
itself,  could  be  descried  the  figure  of  a  man  with  a 
bag  running  against  hope. 

An  observer,  lingering  in  the  shadow  of  the  con- 
verted cow-shed  which  served  as  a  waiting-room  at 
Mellingham  station,  would  have  witnessed  a  capital 
finish,  but  the  train  just  won.  Perhaps  Talboyes  was 
not  strictly  justified  in  his  assertion  that  the  kite  was 
the  deciding  factor.  At  all  events  what  took  place 
was  as  follows. 

When  the  cyclist  found  his  tickets — which  were 
in  his  cap — the  porter  dropped  his  clippers,  stood  on 
them,  and  wondered  where  they  had  got  to.  This 
enraged  the  elder  of  the  two  ladies  in  the  background, 
who,  as  her  companion  had  already  informed  the 
company,  had  "bad  feet  and  a  tin  trunk".  She 
abandoned  her  supplications  and  assumed  a  dicta- 
torial manner.  She  told  the  porter  what  she  thought 
of  him.  What  she  thought  of  him  was  that  he  was 
an  old  fool.  This  created  an  argument,  which  was 
only  drowned  by  the  noise  of  the  train,  as  it  steamed 
into  the  station. 

The  cyclists  made  their  escape,  but  the  other  party 
was  less  lucky.  At  the  critical  moment  the  small  boy 
injudiciously  allowed  his  box-kite  to  get  completely 
out  of  control.  The  kite  executed  a  short  circuit, 
unwinding  yards  of  string  from  the  ball  in  the  hand 
of  its  owner.  The  string  wound  itself  in  coils  round 


THE  DIPPERS  17 

the  old  lady's  extremities,  between  her  bad  feet  and 
over  her  tin  trunk.  Infuriated  and  struggling,  she 
was  finally  rescued,  borne  away  and  pushed  into  a 
carriage  by  the  guard ;  but  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  kite, 
which  was  abandoned  in  the  confusion  and  remained 
in  the  centre  of  the  cinder  track  before  the  cow-shed. 
The  carriage  door  was  loudly  slammed  upon  the 
party,  the  guard's  whistle  sounded,  and  the  train, 
vwith  an  exasperating  air  of  inexorable  deliberation, 
isteamed  laboriously  away. 

No  passengers  had  alighted  at  Mellingham,  and 
the  porter,  having  closed  the  platform  gate,  began 
cautiously  to  wind  in  the  kite  by  the  abbreviated 
length  of  string  which  it  still  retained.  At  the  same 
moment  Talboyes,  panting  with  exhaustion  and  vain- 
ly endeavouring  to  muster  breath  for  a  shout,  came 
dashing  through  the  station  yard,  put  his  foot  clean 
through  the  box-kite  and  bit  the  dust.  From  his  hand 
flew  the  unfortunate  bag,  and  from  the  bag  flew  all 
the  combined  present,  past  and  future  of  Amelia,  of 
Jane,  of  Harriet  and  of  Rosie. 

"Damn!"  said  Talboyes. 

'  'Ere,  'ere,  'ere,"  cried  the  porter,  in  a  protesting 
crescendo.  "Be  careful,  can't  ye?" 

"Careful — I  like  that,"  said  Talboyes. 

uAy,  careful,"  reiterated  the  aged  porter.  "Do  ye 
think  that  'ere  kite  was  put  there  for  you  to  go  kick- 
ing to  bits?" 


1 8  THE  DIPPERS 

"Confound  your  kite !"  replied  Talboyes,  attempt- 
ing to  free  his  one  captured  foot  with  the  other. 
"What  the  dickens  do  you  mean  by  playing  with  your 
kite  in  the  middle  of  a  railway  station?" 

The  porter  nodded,  as  though  admitting  his  er- 
ror. 

"Ay,"  he  said.  "A'al  put  'er  away  as  soon  as  you 
take  yer  foot  off  of  'er."v 

"But  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  Porters 
flying  kites " 

"Aa  warn't  flying  'er." 

"No,  but  you  were  trying  to." 

"A'a  warn't." 

"You  were." 

"Noo,  aa  warn't." 

"You  were,  porter.     Are  you  a  porter?" 

"Ay." 

"You  are?  I  thought  so.  Well,  porter,  you 
were." 

"A'a  warn't." 

"Nonsense.  I  distinctly  saw  you  pulling  the  kite 
along  the  ground  and  giving  it  twitches." 

"Wull,  why  didn't  ye  stap?" 

"Stop?"  cried  Talboyes,  on  his  knees,  attempting 
to  reclaim  his  scattered  papers.  "Do  you  imagine 
that  I  have  expended  all  this  energy  in  order  to  stand 
and  watch  some  particularly  feeble  kite-flying?  Help 
me  to  pick  these  papers  up." 


THE  DIPPERS  19 

"I  think  some  of  'em  got  blowed  away,"  remarked 
the  porter,  assisting  without  enthusiasm. 

Talboyes  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  began  to  dust 
himself. 

"That's  more  than  is  ever  likely  to  happen  to  your 
infernal  kite,"  he  said,  still  indignant  at  being  vic- 
timized in  such  an  outrageous  manner  and  at  such 
an  inconvenient  moment. 

The  most  scrupulous  man  would  have  found  it 
difficult  not  to  lay  the  blame  for  the  lost  train  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  porter  and  his  inopportune  toy.  The 
most  long-suffering  would  have  had  a  struggle  to 
curb  his  wrath.  But  it  is  unlikely  that  such  paragons 
are  gifted  with  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous.  By  the 
time  Talboyes  had  finished  removing  cinder  track 
from  his  clothing,  a  smile  of  suppressed  amusement 
had  already  made  its  appearance  on  his  face,  and 
he  watched  the  old  porter  grunting  over  his  task  of 
collecting  papers  with  something  like  a  chuckle. 
Here,  at  any  rate,  thought  Talboyes,  was  a  person- 
ality on  whom  he  could  practise  that  air  of  authority, 
the  lack  of  which  he  so  frequently  found  cause  to 
deplore.  The  porter,  however,  continued  to  regard 
the  whole  incident  in  the  most  off-hand  manner.  He 
stuffed  about  two-thirds  of  the  papers  haphazard 
into  the  Gladstone  bag  and  arose  dusting  his  horny 
hands. 

"Ay.    That's  aboot  the  lot,"  he  said. 


20  THE  DIPPERS 

"About  the  lot!"  exclaimed  Talboyes.  "I'll  have 
you  know  that  those  are  very  important  business 
documents." 

"Then  ye  ought  to  have  a  business  bag,"  said  the 
porter.  "This  ain't  a  good  bag  in  my  opinion.  It's 
weak  at  the  harsp." 

"The  what?" 

"The  harsp." 

"The  harsp?" 

"Ay,  the  harsp." 

"Not  so  weak  as  you  are  in  the  head,"  said  Tal- 
boyes with  acerbity.  "What  train  was  that  just 
now?" 

"Why  that  were  the  Lunnon  train." 

"Damn !"  said  Talboyes.     "When's  the  next?" 

"There  ain't  another,"  replied  the  porter  cas- 
ually, attempting  as  he  spoke  to  close  the  bag,  which 
immediately  burst  open  again.  "There,  Aa  told  'ee 
it  were  weak  at  the  harsp." 

"You  must  be  a  rotten  porter  if  you  can't  manage 
a  simple  bag." 

"Ay,  a  simple  bag — it  is  that,"  said  the  porter. 

Talboyes  stiffened.  He  felt  bound  in  the  interests 
of  the  travelling  public  to  exercise  the  Prussian  man- 
ner with  this  contumacious  native.  "Pick  all  those 
papers  up  at  once,"  he  said,  "and  then  tell  me  about 
these  trains.  Is  that  the  last  train  to  London?'* 

"There's  more  to-morrow,"  said  the  porter. 


THE  DIPPERS  21 

"Is  that  the  last  train  to-night?" 

"Ay,  it  is  that.  Leastways  it  ain't.  But  it's  the 
last  'un  from  'ere." 

"Itw  the  last?" 

"Ay,  there's  a  fast  'un  later." 

"Oh,  there  is  a  fast  one  later?" 

"Ay,  there's  a  fast  'un  later." 

"Stopping  here?" 

"Noo,  'e  don't  stap  'ere." 

"Well,  where  does  it  stop?"  shouted  Talboyes, 
riled  beyond  measure. 

"Wull,  'e  don't  stap.    'E's  a  fast  'un." 

"Oh,  confound  this!"  Talboyes  beat  the  cinder 
track  with  an  impatient  foot.  "Where  does  it  start 
from?" 

"Start  fram?"  echoed  the  porter  raising  his  head 
slowly  and  surveying  the  distant  horizon  with  a  spec- 
ulative gaze.  "Oh,  somewheres  away  down." 

"But  it  must  stop  somewhere  on  the  way." 

"Why  should  'e?"  inquired  the  porter  hoarsely. 

This  was  rather  a  poser  to  Talboyes,  but  he  jerked 
his  head  with  a  knowledgeable  air. 

"Er — to — to  water,"  he  replied.  "Find  out  where 
it  stops  and  let  me  know  at  once." 

"  'E  waters  at  trarfs,"  said  the  porter,  returning 
to  the  bag. 

"Trarfs?" 

"Ay,  at  trarfs." 


22  THE  DIPPERS 

"Trarfs?"  repeated  Talboyes,  knitting  his  brows. 

"Ay,"  cried  the  porter  angrily,  "At  trarfs,  at 
trarfs,  at  trarfs,  trarfs." 

"Good  God,  I  must  be  in  Scotland!"  commented 
Talboyes. 

The  porter  slowly  completed  his  task  of  collect- 
ing the  papers  before  again  raising  his  head.  When 
he  did  so  he  subjected  Talboyes  to  a  prolonged  and 
critical  scrutiny. 

"Trarfs,"  he  said  emphatically. 

"Oh,  shut  up  !"  said  Talboyes.  "How  am  I  to  get 
to  London  to-night?" 

"Ye  ain't,"  replied  the  porter. 

"What?" 

"Ye  ain't  a-goin'  to — that's  what  ye  ain't  a-goin' 
to  do — ye  ain't  a-goin'  to." 

"But  I  must,"  said  Talboyes.  He  caught  sight  of 
an  ancient  time-table,  which  was  flapping  sadly  in 
process  of  peeling  from  the  wall  of  the  cow-shed. 
"Let's  have  a  look  at  this  train  bill.  There  must  be 
some  connection." 

"Noo,"  said  the  porter,  following  as  though  In 
defence  of  the  company's  property.  "We've  had 
oother  chaps  caught  the  same  way  afore  now. 
They've  allers  'ad  to  bide." 

"To  bide?    Where?" 

"  'Ere,"  said  the  porter,  indicating  the  cow-shed. 

"What  for?" 


THE  DIPPERS  23 

"Fer  the  night."  The  porter  nodded  cheerfully 
at  the  recollection. 

Talboyes  dismissed  the  suggestion  with  a  pout  of 
scorn  and  applied  himself  to  the  time-table.  He 
rather  fancied  himself  for  his  skill  in  looking  up 
trains.  It  was  the  sort  of  homely,  accommodating 
exercise  at  which  he  excelled. 

uNow,"  he  said,  with  a  rather  more  patronizing 
air  to  the  porter,  "when's  the  first  train  down?" 

"Doown?    Ye  don't  want  to  goo  doown,  do  ye?" 

"Ah,  but — now  look  here.  The  first  train  up " 

"Oop?" 

"Yes,  up — in  the  morning." 

"Oh,  oop  in  the  morn.  He'd  be  the  3.15,  milk 
and  workmen." 

"That  settles  that,"  said  Talboyes.  "I'm  not  going 
home  with  the  milk.  Now,  look  here,  there's  an- 
other train  down  to-night  stopping  here,  I  see." 

"Ye  wants  to  go  oop,  don't  'ee?"  said  the  porter. 

Talboyes  gave  him  a  glance  of  pitying  indulgence. 

"Don't  you  see,"  he  explained,  "that  if  I  can  get 
a  train  down  I  can — wait  a  moment " 

"Ye'll  wait  a  matter  o'  two  and  a  'alf  hours,"  said 
the  porter. 

Talboyes  ignored  this. 

"Arrive  10.42,"  he  proceeded  below  his  breath. 
His  busy  forefinger  left  the  printed  bill  to  scratch 
his  head.  Then  he  turned  in  disgust.  "What  a  mis- 


24  THE  DIPPERS 

arable  line,"  he  declared.  "There's  no  connection 
at  all." 

"Ay,  there  ain't,"  agreed  the  porter  with  relish. 

"That  up-train,"  said  Talboyes,  "seems  to  stop 
nowhere." 

"Ay,  Aa  told  'ee,"  replied  the  porter,  "  'e  waters 
at  trarfs." 

"Oh,  confound  you  and  your  trarfs!"  said  Tal- 
boyes rudely.  "What  am  I  to  do?" 

"Bide,"  suggested  the  porter. 

"I  absolutely  refuse  to  bide.  I've  got  to  get  home. 
The  point  is  how  am  I  going  to  do  it." 

"Ye  ain't  a-goin'  to — that's  what  ye  ain't  a-goin* 
to  do — ye  ain't  a-go " 

"How  many  miles  is  it  to  London?"  interrupted 
Talboyes  quickly. 

The  porter  assumed  an  air  suggestive  of  a  board- 
school  boy  under  examination. 

"They  do  say  it  be  nigh  a  'undred  and  twenty," 
he  replied. 

"Yes,  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  get  to  some  junc- 
tion quickly  and  catch  that  up  train.  Is  there  any- 
where here  where  I  can  hire  a  car?" 

"A  car?" 

"Ay,  a  car — I  mean  yes,  a  car." 

"What  sart  of  car  might  that  be?" 

"Goodness  knows.  A  very  queer  sort  I  should 
think." 


THE  DIPPERS  25. 

"A  'orse  car?" 

"No,  a  motor-car." 

"Oo.     Them  things?" 

"Ay,  a  motor-car — yes,  a  motor-car." 

The  porter  reflected. 

"Ay—"  he  said. 

"Yes?"  said  Talboyes  hopefully. 

"Ay.    Noo." 

Talboyes  grew  restless;  he  was  subject  to  a 
certain  disorganization  of  speech  under  stress  of 
nervousness  or  irritation. 

"Do  you  mean  ay — I  mean  no — I  mean  yes  or 
no?"  he  asked. 

The  porter  glared  at  him  sternly  from  beneath  his 
aged,  furrowed  brows. 

"Ay.    Noo,"  he  repeated  definitely. 

"Is  there  a  car?" 

"Ay,  there  ain't." 

"There  is  not  a  car?" 

"Noo." 

"Ay — I  mean  damn!"  said  Talboyes. 

He  walked  a  few  paces  away  and  stood  looking 
down  at  his  heavy  and  unreliable  Gladstone  bag 
rather  disconsolately.  The  porter  again  approached 
and  made  overtures. 

"Ye  might  'ire  a  pair  o'  whales,"  he  began  in  his 
husky  voice. 

"Whales?"  said  the  astonished  Talboyes. 


26  THE  DIPPERS 

"Ay,  a  pair  o'  whales." 

"Oh,  you  mean  wheels?" 

"I  says  what  I  means,"  said  the  disgruntled  porter. 
"A  pair  o'  whales." 

"And  what,"  inquired  Talboyes  gently,  "do  you 
suggest  that  I  should  do  with  a  pair  of  wheels?" 

"Why,  work  'em." 

"Oh,  you  mean  a  bicycle?" 

"Ay,  them  things." 

"And  do  you  imagine  that  I  am  going  a  hundred 
and  twenty  miles  at  night,  carrying  a  large  bag  and 
working  wheels?" 

"Ay,  ye  can't  do  that,"  agreed  the  porter  on  sec- 
ond thoughts,  "not  with  that  there  harsp." 

Talboyes  snorted  with  unusual  wrath. 

"Disgusting!"  he  exclaimed.  "And  I'd  have 
caught  the  train  if  you  hadn't  shut  the  gate  and 
started  playing  with  your  beastly  kite." 

"She  warn't  mine,"  said  the  porter. 

"Then  you've  no  right  to  try  and  fly  it." 

"Aa  warn't  trying  to  fly  'er." 

"That's  ridiculous.  What  do  you  keep  a  kite  for 
if  you  don't  intend  to  fly  it?" 

"Aa  don't  keep  'er." 

"You  want  somebody  to  keep  you,"  said  Talboyes. 

He  surveyed  the  rural  scenery  without  enthusiasm. 
He  was  not  a  busy  man,  but  he  had  a  minor  engage- 
ment in  London  next  morning,  and  in  any  case  the 


THE  DIPPERS  27 

prospect  of  spending  a  night  in  this  retreat  failed  to 
appeal  to  him  in  the  slightest  degree.  He  was  still 
soaked  with  perspiration  and  his  temper  had  not 
been  improved  by  the  porter.  He  longed  for  a  warm 
bath  and  a  comfortable  dinner  at  his  bachelor  club. 
Fortunately,  however,  Talboyes  was,  as  has  been 
said,  a  man  of  philosophic  turn  of  mind.  When  he 
was  impetuous  it  was  in  the  interests  of  a  friend  or 
a  client — a  lady  for  preference — and,  if  he  had  a 
quick  temper,  it  was  with  quick  good  temper  and  not 
with  bad  that  he  was  animated.  So,  he  concluded, 
he  must  make  the  best  of  a  bad  job  and  seek  the 
hospitality  of  the  local  pub. 

"I  suppose  there  is  an  inn?"  he  said  to  the 
porter. 

Upon  this  subject,  at  all  events,  the  porter  could 
furnish  reliable  information. 

There  was  an  inn  conveniently  situated  upon  the 
road  to  Mellingham.  The  sign  of  the  inn  was  the 
"Ploo".  To  reach  it  Talboyes  must  proceed  up  the 
hill.  How  far?  The  porter,  after  a  moment's  deep 
calculation,  stated  that  the  distance  would  be  aboot  a 
'alf-moile,  ay,  about  'alf  a  moile  it  would  be,  aboot 
a  'alf-moile. 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  said  Talboyes  bitterly.  "That's 
a  mile  and  a  half  already." 

He  gingerly  lifted  his  Gladstone  bag  and  was 
proceeding  to  cross  the  cinder  track  in  the  direction 


28  THE  DIPPERS 

of  the  yard,  when  the  unexpected  and  romantic  figure 
of  old  Noony,  the  village's  oldest  inhabitant,  ap- 
peared in  his  path.  Noony  was  clad  in  the  rural 
smock  which  had  served  him  for  many  summers,  and 
his  whole  personality  appeared  to  radiate  with  an 
informative  benevolence.  Talboyes  paused. 

"Who's  this?"  he  inquired  of  the  porter. 

"The  oldest  man  in  this  'ere  place,  'e  be,"  replied 
the  latter. 

"Good,"  said  Talboyes.  "He's  pretty  certain  to 
know  more  about  it  then." 

"Good  even,  zur,"  cried  Noony  in  the  high- 
pitched  tones  of  cheerful  second  childhood.  "What 
may  you  be  a-wantin'  of?" 

"I've  just  missed  the  last  train  to  London,"  be- 
gan Talboyes,  "and " 

"Ah,  ye  shouldn't  do  that,"  said  Noony. 

"Thank  you.  The  point  is  how  am  I  to  get  back 
to  London?" 

"Ah,  that's  orkerd,  ain't  it?"  said  Noony. 

"Ay,  that's  what  Aa  tells  'urn,"  added  the  porter. 

"Ay,"  repeated  the  oldest  inhabitant,  nodding 
gravely.  "Ay,  that's  danged  orkerd  to  be  sure.  Es- 
pecially noo  ye  can't  goo  be  train,  ye  see." 

"I  tell  you,  I've  missed  it,"  said  Talboyes  im- 
patiently. 

"Ah,  ye  shouldn't  do  that.  It  makes  it  orkerd 
like,  don't  it?"  said  Noony. 


THE  DIPPERS  29 

"Ay,"  echoed  the  triumphant  porter,  "Aa  tells 
'im  Vll  'ave  tc  bide." 

"Ay,  to  be  sure,  ye  can  do  that;  ye  can  bide,  ye 
see,"  suggested  Noony. 

"I  know  I  can,"  replied  Talboyes,  stifling  a  male- 
diction, "I'm  just  going  now  to — to  the  'Ploo.' ' 

"Ay,  the  Ploo,  the  Ploo,"  shouted  Noony  enthusi- 
astically, as  though  all  troubles  were  now  at  an  end. 

"Ay,  the  Ploo,"  cried  the  porter. 

"Ay,  the  Ploo,  the  Ploo,"  repeated  Noony. 

"That's  what  Aa  tells  'im — the  Ploo,"  added  the 
porter. 

"Just  up  the  hill?"  said  Talboyes,  by  way  of  check- 
ing the  porter's  rather  doubtful  bearings. 

"Ay,  a  matter  of  aboot  a  'alf  moile,"  that  worthy 
interrupted. 

"Ay,  aboot  a  'alf  moile,  a  'alf  moile,  to  be  sure," 
Noony  agreed. 

"It's  not  getting  any  nearer,"  said  Talboyes. 
"Have  they  beds?" 

"Bads?     Noo,  they  ain't  got  no  bads." 

"What?" 

"They  ain't  'ad  no  bads  a  week  come  Toosdy, 
ye  see." 

"Noo,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  porter. 

"Well,  what  have  they  done  with  them?" 

"With  the  bads?" 

"Ay,  the  beds — I  mean  yes,  the  beds?" 


3o  THE  DIPPERS 

"Why,"  explained  the  village  ancient  with  a  slow 
chuckle  of  secret  amusement,  "they  got  all  the  serv- 
ants o'  them  rich  folks  a-stappin'  at  the  'all  a-stappin' 
at  the  Ploo,  ye  see." 

"A-stopping  at  the  hall,  a-stopping  at  the  Ploo?" 
murmured  Talboyes,  bewildered. 

"Ye  see,"  proceeded  his  counsel,  "it's  like  this  'ere, 
ye  see.  Ye  see,  the  rich  folk,  what's  keepin'  com- 
pany oop  at  the  'all,  they  can't  all  bide  oop  at  the 
'all,  ye  see." 

"Why  not?" 

"Why,  ye  see,  there's  so  many  on  'em.  What 
with  theirselves  and  what  with  their  ladies,  and  what 
with  their  men  servants  and  what  with  their  wum- 
men  servants " 

"Oh,  I  see,"  snapped  Talboyes,  now  aroused  to 
thorough  and  sarcastic  annoyance,  "and  what  with 
their  he-asses  and  their  she-asses,  and  their  he-goats 
and  their  she-goats " 

"They  ain't  got  no  goats,  I  'aven't  'card  tell," 
said  Noony. 

"They  have,  they've  got  mine;  so  have  you,"  said 
Talboyes. 

He  once  more  deposited  his  bag  upon  the  ground 
and  turned  to  the  cow-shed,  which  he  inspected  witK 
a  sniff  of  disapproval. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  as  though  accepting  a  chal- 
lenge, "I'll  simply  sit  here  and  see  what  happens." 


THE  DIPPERS  31 

The  porter  and  Noony  regarded  him  and  each 
other  with  open-mouthed  curiosity.  But  when  they 
saw  him  take  his  uncomfortable  seat,  produce  a  cig- 
arette from  his  case,  and  display  no  further  interest 
in  them,  the  village  cronies  presently  turned  and  com- 
menced to  indulge  in  their  customary  evening  in- 
timacies. 

"We'll  'ave  a  tidy  drap  o'  rain,  I  reckon,"  said 
Noony. 

"Ay,"  replied  the  porter,  "and  coold." 

"Ay,  right  coold  it  will  be  this  night." 

"Durdy  weather  it  bodes." 

"Ay,  theck  and  durdy.     Coold  too,  ye  see." 

"Ay,  and  rain." 

"Ay,  a  tidy  drap  o'  rain  afore  morn." 

"I'd  rather  you  did  me  some  tableaux,"  said  Tal- 
boyes. 

The  oldest  inhabitant  turned  with  a  sigh.  He  felt 
disinclined  to  lay  bare  his  prophetic  soul  any  further 
in  the  presence  of  this  Cockney.  He  frowned  at  Tal- 
boyes  severely  and  again  addressed  the  porter. 

"Wull,  I  must  be  movin'  on,  movin'  on,  ye  see." 

"Ay,"  replied  the  porter.  "Wull,  Aa  must  be 
movin'  on  meself." 

"Ay,  then  we'd  better  both  be  movin'  on,"  said 
Noony. 

"I'm  already  beginning  to  like  this  place  better," 
said  Talboyes. 


32  THE  DIPPERS 

"Wull,  goodnight  to  'ee,  Tarm,"  said  Noony. 

"Ay,  good  night  to  'ee,  Garge." 

"And  good  night  to  'ee,  Mister.'1 

"Oh,  good  night  to  you"  said  Talboyes. 

"Be  this  your  bag,  Mister?" 

"Leave  that  bag  alone.  Don't  touch  it,  do  you 
hear?" 

"Ay,  be  careful  o'  that,  Garge,"  said  the  porter. 
"It  be  weak  at  the  harsp." 

"Oo,  'e  shouldn't  be  that,"  said  Noony,  stooping 
laboriously  and  examining  the  bag. 

"Leave  it  alone  at  once!"  repeated  Talboyes. 

"Ay,  fancy  that.  Weak  at  the  harsp.  Dang  me  I" 
said  Noony,  obeying  with  some  reluctance.  "Wull, 
good  night  to  'ee." 

He  hobbled  a  few  paces  away,  and  Talboyes  was 
already  breathing  a  sigh  of  relief,  when  the  porter 
was  struck  by  a  brilliant  inspiration. 

"Hi,  Garge!"  he  cried. 

Noony  halted. 

"Be  ye  a-goin'  to  the  Ploo?"  asked  the  porter. 

"Ay,  that  I  be,"  replied  Noony  with  relish. 

"Aa  was  a-thenkin',"  said  the  porter.  "Vowles, 
oop  at  the  Ploo,  'e  'as  a  foine  pair  o'  whales." 

"Vowles?" 

"Ay,  Vowles— Ben  Vowles." 

"Oo,  ay.     Ben  Vowles.    Whales?" 


THE  DIPPERS  33 

"Ay,  whales,  whales,  a  pair  o'  whales." 

"Oo,  ay.    A  pair  o'  whales.    Ay." 

"Look  here,"  shouted  Talboyes.  "I  don't  want 
any  whales,  and  I  don't  want  you,  and  for  pity's  sake 
tell  Ben  Vowles  to — to  bide  at  the  Ploo." 

"Ay,  'e  don't  want  'em,"  said  the  porter,  with  a 
little  grunt  which  conveyed  his  estimation  of  Talboyes 
for  not  wanting  them. 

"  'E  don't  want  'em?"  said  Noony  incredulously. 
"Wull,  dang  'im,  and  dang  me,  and  good  night  to  'ee, 
Tarm." 

"Ay,  good  night  to  'ee,  Garge." 

"And  good  night  to  'ee,  Mister." 

"Oh,  good  night,  good  night,  good  night,"  sighed 
Talboyes. 

For  some  moments  after  the  welcome  departure 
of  Noony,  the  porter  stood  regarding  Talboyes  witK 
intense  interest,  as  though  he  were  a  specimen  of  hu- 
manity hitherto  unrecorded  at  Mellingham.  Finally, 
yielding  to  the  severe  frown  with  which  this  curi- 
osity was  greeted,  he  nodded  three  times  very  slowly 
and  said  "Ay."  After  which  he  shuffled  away  to 
his  sanctum  in  the  yard. 

To  a  tired  and  hungry  man  of  middle-age  and  re- 
spectable habits  the  accommodation  offered  by  the 
cow-shed  was  little  short  of  barbarous.  Talboyes 
tested  several  positions  on  the  seat,  which  was  ex- 
ceedingly hard  and  narrow.  Moreover,  he  was  un- 


34  THE  DIPPERS 

able  to  assume  any  confidence  in  its  cleanliness.  He 
tested  it  in  this  respect  with  his  pocket-handkerchief 
and  found  it  wanting.  He  presently  sat  up  and  asked 
himself  why  he  was  being  such  an  ass  as  to  worry 
about  the  cow-shed  at  all,  for  to  spend  the  night 
there,  especially  without  food,  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. On  the  other  hand,  the  prospect  of  wandering 
vaguely  into  the  village  in  search  of  a  dinner  and  bed 
was  almost  equally  trying.  He  realized,  however, 
that  he  must  take  steps  in  the  matter.  The  time  was 
now  eight  o'clock.  Mellingham  was  obviously  pop- 
ulated by  half-baked  rustics,  rigidly  observant,  no 
doubt,  of  a  conventional  Curfew.  Perhaps  he  would 
be  well-advised  to  explore  before  Noony  and  his  as- 
sociates left  the  Plough. 

Suddenly  Talboyes  sat  upright  in  an  attitude  of 
attention.  From  the  station  yard  came  the  sound  of 
a  car — the  swish  of  studded  tyres  grating  on  the 
cinders  as  they  spun  round  in  a  quick,  final  turn  and 
were  brought  to  rest.  Next  moment  a  young  chauf- 
feur, wearing  a  smart  uniform,  came  hurrying  round 
the  corner  into  view  of  Talboyes,  whom  he  greeted 
with  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  pleasure. 

"Ah,  here  you  are,  sir,"  he  cried.    "Sorry  I'm  late, 


sir." 


"Hello,"  said  Talboyes  doubtfully  but  not  without 
encouragement. 

"Very  sorry,  sir.     If  I'd  thought  it  was  really 


THE  DIPPERS  35 

« 

likely  you  were  here,  I'd  have  come  and  fetched  you 
earlier." 

"Oh,  not  at  all,"  said  Talboyes.  "As  a  matter  of 
fact  I — I  didn't — I  didn't  expect  you  at  all.  That 
is " 

"I  had  a  bit  o'  trouble  with  my  engine,"  said  the 
chauffeur. 

"Really?    Yes,  so  had  I — in  a  way." 

"All  our  cars  are  being  used  very  hard  just  now," 
explained  the  chauffeur  with  a  confidential  smile. 

Talboyes  opened  his  eyes  widely. 

"All  of  them?"  he  said.  "But  er — how  many 
cars  have  you  got?" 

"Six  in  all,"  replied  the  chauffeur  with  non- 
chalance. 

"Six  cars!"  cried  Talboyes.  There  appeared 
to  be  no  half-measures  about  this  gift  of  the  gods. 
"As  long  as  I  can  get  hold  of  one " 

"That's  all  right,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur.  "This 
one's  running  a  treat  again  now." 

"I  wish  I  might  be  allowed  to  hire  a  car  to " 

"Hire?"  interrupted  the  chauffeur  effusively. 
"His  lordship  would  never  dream  of  letting  you 
pay." 

"No,  er — no,  I  see,"  said  Talboyes.  "But  the 
truth  of  the  matter  is  I  want  to  try  and  get  back  to 
London  to-night,  and " 

"Oh  I  see,  sir,"  answered  the  chauffeur.    "I  under* 


06  THE  DIPPERS 

stood  that  you  expected  to  stop  down  here  for  the 
night." 

"Yes,  well,  I— I  did,"  replied  Talboyes.  "But  of 
course  if  you  think  his  lordship  would  really  lend  me 
a  car — You  see  the  trouble  really  is  that  his  lordship 
doesn't  expect  me." 

"Oh  yes,  sir,"  cried  the  chauffeur  reassuringly. 
"His  lordship  felt  pretty  sure  that  I  should  bring 
you  back  with  me.  That's  why  I  came  down  here 
to  the  station.  His  lordship  heard  that  you  had  had 
a  bit  of  bad  luck." 

The  plausibility  of  this  statement  quite  startled 
Talboyes.  He  saw  visions  of  a  noble  and  neigh- 
bouring philanthropist  with  a  remarkable  intelligence 
system  and  a  large  stud  of  cars  for  the  benefit  o£ 
stranded  wayfarers. 

"A  bit  of  bad  luck — yes?"  he  murmured. 

"Yes,  sir,"  went  on  the  chauffeur.  "Missed  your 
train,  didn't  you?" 

"Oh  yes,"  agreed  Talboyes  readily.  "Yes,  I  cer- 
tainly missed  my  train." 

"Yes,  that's  what  his  lordship  heard,  or  something 
of  the  sort  any'ow,"  said  the  chauffeur  in  a  matter 
of  fact  tone,  sucking  his  teeth.  "So,  you  see,  he  sent 
me  out  scouting  about  for  you." 

"Really,  this  is  extraordinarily  thoughtful  of  his 
lordship,"  cried  Talboyes,  arguing  within  himself 
against  the  obvious  theory  of  mistaken  identity. 


THE  DIPPERS  37 

The  chauffeur  appeared  to  think  that  the  credit 
was  due  entirely  to  himself.  He  jerked  his  head  in 
acknowledgment  of  Talboyes'  enthusiasm  and 
said: 

"Oh,  not  at  all.  Why  I'd  have  been  here  sooner 
if  I'd  known  you  were  waiting  here." 

Reason  returned  at  that  moment  to  Talboyes.  "Of 
course  it's  all  a  mistake,"  he  thought,  "and  he  thinks 
I'm  somebody  else — some  guest  who  has  gone 
adrift."  But  the  possibility  of  allowing  the  chance 
of  rescue  from  the  horrors  of  the  cow-shed  to  slip 
through  his  fingers,  especially  rescue  which  embraced 
the  free  use  of  a  swift  and  luxurious  car,  was  too 
cruel  to  be  contemplated.  Talboyes  could  scarcely 
believe  that  a  righteous  man  could  be  subjected  to  so 
tantalizing  a  freak  of  fortune.  Still  vaguely  hopeful 
he  hedged. 

"I  don't  quite  understand  why  his  lordship  should 
know  I  was  here,  all  the  same,"  he  began. 

"He  didn't  know,"  replied  the  chauffeur  immedi- 
ately, with  a  suggestion  of  impatience  in  his  manner. 
"He  just  guessed." 

"But  does  he  often  guess  like  that?  I  really  be- 
lieve, mind  you,  that  I — that  he " 

"I  think  he  telephoned  to  your  house  and  so  he 
knew  you  had  started,"  said  the  chauffeur. 

Ah,  dash  it,  then  it  was  all  a  mistake.  Talboyes 
shook  his  head  with  a  sad  smile  of  resignation. 


3 8  THE  DIPPERS 

"No,"  he  said.  "I'm  very  sorry  to  disappoint  his 
lordship,  but " 

"But  you  won't,"  argued  the  chauffeur,  with  now 
undisguised  impatience.  "You'll  still  be  in  plenty  of 
time.  If  you'll  just  hop  in  the  car,  we'll  have  you  in 
the  Hall  in  half  a  jiffy." 

"Oh,  the  Hall?    Is  that  where  his  lordship — — ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  His  lordship  said  you  might  not  know 
exactly  where  the  place  was  you  were  going  to." 

"M'yes,  he's  quite  right,"  said  Talboyes  in  an 
undertone. 

"That's  why  I  thought  I  might  find  you  here," 
explained  the  chauffeur  explicitly,  as  though  dealing 
with  a  thick-headed  schoolboy.  "His  lordship  says 
to  me,  'As  none  of  us  know  the  gentleman,  and  he's 
a  total  stranger  and  has  lost  his  train,  you  just  keep 
on  making  inquiries  in  likely  places  in  case  he  turns 
up.'  " 

"Ah,  but  who?" 

"Why,  you." 

"Ah,  but  who — who  am  I?" 

"I  don't  exactly  recollect  the  name,  sir;  but  you 
are  the  gentleman  that  missed  his  train,  aren't  you?" 

There  was  no  denying  this. 

"Yes,  oh  yes,"  Talboyes  said.  "I'm  the  gentle- 
man who  missed  his  train." 

"That's  right  then,"  said  the  chauffeur,  taking  an 
encouraging  step  towards  the  yard. 


THE  DIPPERS  39 

"But  I'm  afraid  there's  some  mistake,"  argued 
Talboyes,  preparing,  despite  himself,  to  follow.  "I 
want  to  go  back  to  town.  I  don't  really  want  to  go 
to  the  Hall — at  least  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  go  to 
the  Hall  first,  but " 

"Well,  naturally,"  said  the  chauffeur,  noting  the 
other's  hesitancy  with  a  rather  derisive  smile. 

"Oh  yes,  naturally,  naturally,"  proceeded  Tal- 
boyes hastily.  "But  do  you  think  his  lordship  will 
help  me  to  get  back  to  town  to-night?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,  if  it's  urgent,"  said  the  chauf- 
feur with  a  sigh. 

"It's  very  urgent.  I  wouldn't  dream  of  troubling 
his  lordship  if  it  wasn't  urgent,"  said  Talboyes 
sternly. 

"But  of  course,  as  I  say,  his  lordship  has  got  a 
bedroom  for  you  if  you  care  to  use  it." 

Talboyes  thought  of  the  reported  congestion  at  the 
Hall  and  indulged  in  a  brief  but  gloomy  premonition 
of  his  lordship's  probable  reception  of  a  confessed 
imposter. 

"Anyhow,"  he  said,  "his  lordship  seems  a  very 
kind-hearted  man,  and  perhaps  he — he  won't 
mind " 

"Oh,  he  is  that,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur.  "Popu- 
lar with  high  and  low." 

"At  the  same  time  I  really — He's  the  sort  of  man 
to  do  another  a  good  turn?" 


40  THE  DIPPERS 

The  chauffeur's  restraint  was  overcome.  He  gave 
vent  to  that  sharp  sound  of  the  tongue  between  the 
teeth  which  is  understood  universally  to  imply  ir- 
ritation. 

"Oh,  he'll  send  you  back  to  town  all  right  if  only 
you'll  come  and  do  your  turn,"  he  snapped. 

Talboyes'  face  assumed  an  expression  of  bewilder- 
ment at  this.  The  chauffeur,  rather  ashamed  of  hav- 
ing given  vent  to  his  feelings,  mistook  the  bewilder- 
ment for  righteous  indignation  and  relapsed  into 
apologetic  submission. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Talboyes. 

"No  offence,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur. 

"But  I  want  to  know  what  you  mean." 

"My  mistake,  sir.  I  didn't  mean  to  put  it  like  that." 

"Look  here,"  cried  Talboyes  in  desperation.  "I'm 
afraid  I  must  be  frank  with  you." 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir.    No  liberty  intended.'* 

"No,  but  don't  you  see,  you've  made  a  great  mis- 
take?" 

"I  do  now,  sir.  I  spoke  without  thinking  what  I 
was  saying." 

"Yes,  but  I'm  not  the  man  you  take  me  for." 

"I  see  that  now,  sir.    I'm  very  sorry  if  I  offended." 

"You  don't  understand." 

"Yes,  now  I  do,  sir." 

"You  do  not,"  cried  Talboyes  hotly.  "I'm  not 
going  to  the  Hall." 


THE  DIPPERS  41 

"Oh  don't  say  that,  sir,"  pleaded  the  chauffeur, 
becoming  abject  in  apology.  "His  lordship  would  be 
terribly  upset  to  think  you've  taken  such  offence." 

"I  haven't  taken  offence,  I — • — " 

The  chauffeur  brightened. 

"Then  please  do  jump  into  the  car,  sir,"  he 
urged. 

Talboyes  wavered.  There  appeared  to  be  no 
alternative  to  taking  advantage  of  this  spirited  idiot. 
He  simply  refused  to  listen  to  denial.  He  was  al- 
ready stooping  to  lift  the  Gladstone  bag. 

"Leave  that  alone,"  said  Talboyes  sharply.  "It's 
weak  at  the  harsp." 

"Pardon,  sir?" 

"The  harsp,  harsp.  Never  mind,  leave  it  alone. 
No,  give  it  to  me.  By  gad,  I'll  go  and  see  his  lord- 
ship !  It's  the  very  best  thing  I  can  do." 

"I  hope,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur  softly,  "that  you 
won't  let  anything  I've  said " 

Talboyes  had  made  up  his  mind.  There  was  no 
stopping  him  now. 

"Hand  me  that  bag,"  he  repeated.  "Mind  the 
harsp.  Quick,  come  along  now.  Take  me  to  his 
lordship.  Hurry  up." 

He  hurried  towards  the  yard,  where  the  massive 
car  stood  in  readiness  for  the  adventure.  The  chauf- 
feur followed,  agreeably  surprised  at  the  sudden  show 
of  decision. 


42  THE  DIPPERS 

"What  about  this  kite,  sir?"  he  called.     "Is  that 
yours  too?" 

"No,"  roared  Talboyes. 


CHAPTER  II 

OW  here  we  have  the  inner,  or  Armorial 

Hall." 

The  speaker  concluded  his  announce- 
ment with  a  smack  of  the  lips  and  a  long  intake  of 
the  breath  which  implied  that  any  further  tribute 
to  the  beauties  of  his  Armorial  hall  would  be  super- 
fluous. He  was  a  man  of  fine  build,  debased  of  re- 
cent years  by  self-complacency  and  good-living  into 
mere  obesity.  When,  as  now,  his  large,  clean-shaven 
face  enjoyed  a  premeditated  smile,  not  only  his  mouth 
smiled  but  ripple  on  ripple  of  multiplied  chin  be- 
neath extended  in  reflecting  semi-circles  of  gratifica- 
tion to  his  very  tie-pin. 

This  was  Lord  Mellingham;  and  it  must  be  con- 
ceded that  he  had  justification  for  self-esteem.  He 
was  the  first  Baron  Mellingham,  founder  of  a  dy- 
nasty; and  this,  Mellingham  Hall,  swept,  garnished, 
redecorated  and  embellished,  his  county  seat.  That 
his  lordship  was  of  humble  origin  was  perhaps  slight- 
ly perceptible,  but  this  merely  emphasized  the 
strength  of  personality  and  mastery  of  public  affairs 

43 


44  THE  DIPPERS 

which  had  won  for  him  the  wealth  and  position  in 
which  he  openly  gloried.  That  the  embellishment  of 
the  Hall  had  resulted  in  a  monumental  exhibition 
of  expensive  vulgarity  was  but  another  proof  of  the 
inevitably  democratic  tendency  in  the  foundation  of 
modern  dynasties. 

The  present  tour  of  inspection  had  been  organized 
for  the  benefit  of  two  ladies.  Wattle,  his  lordship's 
head  butler,  completed  the  party,  remaining  at  a  dis- 
creet distance  and  treating  his  master's  panegyrics 
to  sub-conscious  but  enthusiastic  imitation  with 
strange  facial  contortions. 

Of  the  two  ladies  one  was  a  dark,  willowy  maiden 
in  the  early  twenties.  She  wore  a  travelling  costume 
of  cheap  green.  She  followed  the  remarks  of  her 
host  with  an  emotional  silence.  A  generation  back 
she  would  undoubtedly  have  trailed  in  the  wake  of 
Bunthorne;  to-day  she  was  reduced  to  the  study  of 
social  reform  in  many  of  the  unconventional  aspects 
embraced  by  that  prolific  parent  of  anomalies.  The 
soulful  maiden  was  Miss  Helen  Monk,  niece  of  Lord 
Mellingham;  her  companion  nominally  a  chaperon. 
But  one  glance  at  the  smart,  engaging  widow  of 
thirty,  to  whom  his  lordship's  observations  were  ex- 
clusively addressed,  sufficed  to  relegate  the  niece  into 
a  harmless,  necessary  excuse.  Wattle  had  grasped 
the  situation  from  the  very  moment  when  his  master 
had  floundered  forth  to  welcome  his  visitors  and  had 


THE  DIPPERS  45 

escorted  the  widow  in  triumph  over  the  mobile  tiger- 
skin  on  the  slippery  parquet  floor  of  the  Vestibule 
into  the  inner,  or  Armorial  Hall. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  mastered  her  countenance  and  re- 
viewed the  Armorial  Hall  with  a  keen  smile  of 
deference.  From  its  walls  depended  the  derelict 
portraits  of  a  few  unreclaimed  knights  and  ladies, 
surmounted  by  incompatible  coats  of  arms  and  by 
an  occasional  battle-axe  or  humiliated  blunderbuss 
mellowed  with  the  stains  of  long  usage  in  the  pirati- 
cal quarter  of  Tottenham  Court  Road.  In  relief  to 
the  air  of  antiquity  furnished  by  these  relics,  the  fur- 
niture of  the  hall — the  long  hall  table  and  the  sev- 
eral chairs,  easy  and  uneasy — was  of  choice  George 
y.  pattern.  An  assortment  of  highly  decorative 
mats,  augmented  by  the  skins  of  strange  beasts, 
covered  various  portions  of  the  floor.  Bronze  statues 
of  ladies  with  abnormal  figures  held  aloft  cut-glass 
globes  pregnant  with  illumination  of  sufficient  candle- 
power  to  equip  a  series  of  small  lighthouses.  The 
staircase  was  situated  at  one  end  of  the  Armorial 
Hall,  near  the  doorway  to  the  Vestibule,  the  stairs 
covered  with  a  plain  carpet  of  a  restful  shade  of 
bright  green. 

"And,"  said  his  lordship,  swinging  open  tall  fold- 
ing doors,  "the  drawing-room." 

The  "and"  was  distinctive,  like  that  "and"  which 
distinguishes  the  star  performer  in  a  theatrical  hand- 


46  THE  DIPPERS 

bill.  It  was  meant  to  be.  Lord  Mellingham  looked 
upon  this  drawing-room  as  the  final  and  consummate 
expression  of  his  decorative  genius.  Spacious  and 
lofty,  magnificent  with  gilt  mirrors  and  the  massive 
frames  of  expensive  water-colours — yes,  Mrs.  Tavi- 
stock  might  well  exclaim  "Oh"  like  that. 

"Step  across  to  the  conservatory,  my  dear  lady," 
said  his  lordship.  "One  gains  an  even  better  impres- 
sion of  the  room  from  that  aspect."  He  led  the 
way,  rolling.  "There,"  he  cried.  "View  the  room 
from  here.  Be  careful  not  to  step  backwards;  there 
is  a  small  artificial  pond  at  your  back.  Yes,  I  have 
given  considerable  thought  to  this  room.  The  ceiling 
decoration  was  specially  designed.  If  you  move  a 
little  to  your  left — Wattle,  kindly  come  and  remove 
this  stuffed  heron." 

He  moved  forward  into  the  room  and  stood  witK 
his  back  to  the  marble  fireplace,  his  feet  firmly  plant- 
ed upon  the  skin  of  the  largest  and  most  versi- 
colored bear  known  to  taxidermy.  From  the  great 
gilt  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  behind  him  Cupids 
sprouted,  their  arms  outstretched,  as  though  invok- 
ing the  blessings  of  Eros  upon  his  brow.  On  either 
hand  were  massive  chandeliers,  ornamented  with 
layers  of  heavy  crystal  icicles.  Lord  Mellingham 
took  a  short  but  blissful  survey  of  this  capacious  inner 
shrine  of  Peace  with  Money;  then  he  returned  to 
Mrs.  Tavistock's  side  with  an  inquiring  smile. 


THE  DIPPERS  47 

"It  must  mean  an  awful  lot  of  work,"  observed 
that  lady. 

"I  have  taken  great  pains  with  this  room  I  admit." 

"But  I  mean  now — the  upkeep.  All  your  chintzes 
and  lace  curtains  are  so  beautifully  spotless.  And 
the  chairs — I  should  think  gilt-backed  chairs  want  a 
lot  of  dusting;  and  the  Chesterfield — what  a  huge 
one!" 

"It  is,  I  believe,  the  most  commodious  settee  of 
that  type  which  can  be  obtained,"  observed  Lord 
Mellingham. 

"And  all  these  gilt  frames,  and  the  grand  piano !" 

It  was,  incidentally,  the  grandest  piano  in  Dorset- 
shire. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Lord  Mellingham,  "the  upkeep 
of  such  a  room  as  this  is  a  considerable  item.  But 
you  must  remember,  my  dear  lady,  that  in  these  days 
it  is  fortunately  possible  to  employ  labour-saving  de- 
vices of  great  scope  and  ingenuity." 

And,  indeed,  the  whole  house  contained  an  ade- 
quate supply  of  all  those  paraphernalia  whereby  the 
domestic  scientist  contrives  that  owner  and  guest  may 
light  themselves,  cool  themselves,  feed  themselves, 
clean  themselves  and  burn  themselves  by  original  and 
expeditious  means. 

Helen  Monk  murmured  a  sort  of  sophistical  amen 
to  her  uncle's  tribute  to  progression,  but  he  passed 
it  unheeded. 


48  THE  DIPPERS 

"This  room,"  he  continued,  addressing  Mrs.  Tav- 
istock,  "will  undergo  a  very  marked  transition  to- 
morrow. This  is  to  be  our  ball-room." 

"Oh,  the  dance  is  to-morrow  night?" 

"Yes,  all  is  in  readiness.  You  are  the  last  of  my 
house-party  to  put  in  an  appearance,  Mrs.  Tavistock; 
but,  of  course,  the  majority  of  the  ball  guests  reside 
in  the  neighbourhood." 

They  were  retracing  their  steps  to  the  hall  over 
the  great  expanse  of  Turkey  carpet.  Mrs.  Tavistock 
stole  a  glance  at  Helen,  who  had  paused  to  bestow  an 
earnest  gaze  upon  one  of  the  most  expensive  of  the 
water-colours. 

"I  hope  all  the  best  people  are  coming,"  she  said. 
"Remember,  you  promised  me  you  would  ask  them." 

A  bland  smile  and  its  reflections  illuminated  his 
lordship's  face. 

"Several  of  the  oldest  and  best  county  families 
will  be  represented,"  he  replied.  "I  hardly  suppose 
it  is  an  invitation  which  anyone  will  willingly  ignore." 

"Splendid !"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock.  "I  want  Helen 
to  be  introduced  to  all  the  nice,  fat,  wealthy,  young 
county  bucks.  She  has  never  had  much  of  a  chance, 
you  know,  poor  Helen." 

"Helen  is  not  my  guest  of  honour,"  ventured  the 
peer  in  an  undertone,  peering,  with  an  exultant  smile, 
into  her  face. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  made  no  reply  but  waited  in  the 


THE  DIPPERS  49 

drawing-room  doorway  for  Helen  to  rejoin  them. 
There  was  a  tinge  of  colour  in  the  widow's  cheek, 
but  there  was  no  apparent  change  in  the  ease  of 
her  manner  as  she  made  some  trivial  remark  con- 
cerning the  splendours  of  the  drawing-room  to 
Helen. 

"And  now,"  said  Lord  Mellingham,  relapsing  un- 
willingly into  his  role  of  showman,  "would  you  care 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  your  fellow-guests,  or 
would  you  prefer  first  to  be  shown  to  your  room?" 

"Thank  you,  Lord  Mellingham,  I  think  I  should 
really  prefer  to  be  shown  to  my  room." 

"By  all  means.  Wattle,  the  ladies  will  be  shown 
to  their  rooms.  There  is  still  half  an  hour  to  tea- 
time;  but  pray,  Mrs.  Tavistock,  do  not  wait  for 
tea-time  if  you  require  any  refreshment  after  your 
journey.  If  you  are  in  need  of  anything  at  any 
time  you  have  but  to  say  the  word,  ring  the  bell  or 
use  the  telephone." 

"The  telephone?" 

"Yes,  the  telephone  is  laid  on  in  every  room," 
said  Lord  Mellingham  expansively.  "I  find  it  con- 
venient." 

"Really?  What  for Yes,  I  see,  how  very- 
nice,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock  with  unwonted  indecision. 

Shown  to  her  room,  she  sat  upright  on  the  bed — * 
though  a  padded  arm-chair  about  the  size  of  a  mod- 
est tomb  stood  close  at  hand — and  viewed  the  pleth- 


50  THE  DIPPERS 

ora  of  modern  conveniences,  the  telephone,  the  elec- 
tric fan,  the  burglar  and  fire  alarms,  with  a  long- 
drawn  sigh  of  perplexity.  A  small  portmanteau  and 
a  dressing-case  had  been  duly  deposited  in  a  corner 
of  the  room,  and  she  scanned  them  as  though  hesi- 
tating whether  they  should  be  unpacked.  Her  de- 
jection did  not  last  long.  She  was  experienced  at 
making  the  best  of  a  bad  job.  The  long  mirror 
across  the  room  reflected  a  whimsical  smile  and  a 
momentary  exaggeration  of  the  dainty  tilt  of  her 
nose.  She  repeated  the  little  grimace  at  the  mirror 
for  her  own  satisfaction.  Her  lurking  suspicions  of 
Lord  Mellingham's  attitude  towards  her  had  re- 
ceived direct  confirmation  within  ten  minutes  of  her 
arrival.  Her  philanthropic  motive  in  championing 
the  hopeless  Helen  had  decoyed  her.  She  mentally 
revisited  the  conservatory  and  took  stock  of  that 
drawing-room  with  a  shudder;  next,  the  Armorial 
Hall,  the  Vestibule  with  its  marble  pillars.  It  had 
suddenly  become  quite  obvious  that  his  lordship 
contemplated  gathering  all  these  wonders  into  his 
broad  arms,  like  some  ponderous  Djinn,  and  laying 
them  at  her  feet.  But  for  that  fact  Mrs.  Tavistock 
^vould  have  been  fully  prepared  to  enjoy  herself. 

As  it  was,  she  apparently  decided  that  she  would 
not  be  worsted  by  any  deplorable  developments.  She 
rose  with  a  sudden  energy  from  the  bed  and,  crossing 
the  room,  unlocked  her  boxes.  After  which  she 


THE  DIPPERS  51 

sought  the  inferior  room  to  which  Helen  had  been 
shown. 

The  latter  was  superintending  the  unpacking  of 
her  wardrobe  with  the  pleasurable  fussiness  of  one 
to  whom  a  handmaid  is  a  novelty. 

"Are  you  my  maid  too?"  asked  Mrs.  Tavistock. 

"No,   madam,"   replied  the   domestic.      "Minnie 


is." 


"Oh,  Minnie.  Well,  I  just  wanted  a  word  with 
Miss  Monk,  if  you — " 

"Oh,  yes,  'm."    The  maid  tacitly  withdrew. 

"Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock,  "I  want  you  to 
tell  me  something." 

"Oh,  Stella,  what,  dear?" 

"You  know  that  night  when  Lord  Mellingham 
was  on  his  visit  to  you  at  Croydon  and  I  came  in 
to  see  you?" 

"Yes,  dear." 

"How  soon  after  that  did  he  propose  that  you 
should  come  down  here?" 

"Almost  the  next  day,  if  not  quite." 

"Quite,  I  expect.  And  when  your  mother  wrote 
to  me  and  said  she  couldn't  go  with  you,  but  that 
there  was  an  idea  that  I  should  be  asked  instead  of 
her?" 

"Yes?" 

"Helen,  was  your  mother  even  invited  at 
all?" 


52  THE  DIPPERS 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Helen  in  the  manner  of  a  sorely- 
tried  female  Washington.  "No,  dear." 

"So  Lord  Mellingham  really  asked  you  on  con- 
dition that  I  could  come  with  you — was  that  it?" 

"Nearly  it." 

"Very  nearly,  I  should  think,"  said  Mrs.  Tavi- 
stock. 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Helen.  "How  did  you  guess? 
Did  Uncle  Percival  tell  you?" 

"Yes,  he  told  me  just  now,"  replied  Mrs.  Tavi- 
stock  reflectively,  "but  only  indirectly.  I'd  never 
seen  him  since  that  evening.  He  wrote  and  said  he 
was  glad  that  I  would  come  and  that  he  intended 
giving  a  dance ;  and  of  course  I  wrote  back  and  said 
'not  at  all'  and  that  I  was  sure  you  would  enjoy  it 
very  much;  but-V 

"Oh,  Stella,"  appealed  Helen,  folding  some  linen 
mystery  with  the  aid  of  both  hands  and  a  chin,  "you 
mustn't  be — I'm  sure  mother  didn't  mean  to  be  de- 
ceitful, except  in  a  good  cause." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  forcibly  removed  the  mystery 
from  Helen's  embrace  and,  folding  it  with  a  deft 
movement,  laid  it  on  the  bed. 

"I  will  overlook  the  deception,  Helen,"  she  said, 
"if  you'll  promise  me  faithfully  to  have  a  good 
time." 

"Oh,  I — I'm  a  little  nervous  you  know,  Stella,  but 
I  think  I  shall.  Isn't  it  a  beautiful  house?" 


THE  DIPPERS  53 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock  in  a  practical  tone, 
"pull  your  socks  up  and  you  may  get  one  like  it." 

"Oh,  Stella  I" 

"Don't  take  off  your  hat  yet.  When  you're  ready 
come  along  to  my  room  and  we'll  brave  tea-time 
together,  shall  we?  That's  right."  In  the  doorway 
she  paused.  "Don't  forget  you're  in  a  very  strong 
position  here,"  she  added.  "You're  Lord  Melling- 
ham's  niece  and  the  dance  is  being  given  for  you; 
so  you  needn't  care  two  hoots  for  anybody  you  don't 
like,  but  treat  them  with  great  affability  and  charm." 

She  returned  to  her  own  room.  There  was  much 
in  her  mind  concerning  their  noble  host  which  she 
did  not  reveal  to  Helen.  She  did  not  reveal  her 
shrewd  suspicion  that  his  recent  recognition  of  a  poor 
and  unacknowledged  branch  of  his  family  had  been 
forced  upon  him  when  stranded  in  London  during  a 
busy  season  when  hotels  and  clubs  were  congested 
to  overflowing.  It  would  not  be  Mrs.  Tavistock's 
fault  if  his  new-born  interest  in  that  obscure  house- 
hold failed  to  assume  a  more  permanent  form  than 
a  week's  gratuitous  patronage.  Mrs.  Monk  was 
her  friend.  In  the  days  when  a  very  young  widow 
had  been  left,  wide-eyed,  to  earn  her  living,  Helen's 
kindly,  foolish  mother  had  proved  a  friend  in  need. 
When,  on  a  recent  evening  visit,  Mrs.  Tavistock  had 
discovered  a  fat  peer  occupying  the  only  fairly  com- 
fortable chair  in  the  little  sitting-room,  the  elder 


54  THE  DIPPERS 

widow  had  confided  to  her  in  an  aside  the  enigmatical 
hope  that  Percival  might  mean  to  "do  something" 
for  Helen.  And  here,  sure  enough,  was  Helen,  in- 
vited to  the  Hall.  But  with  what  a  motive !  Small 
wonder  that  Lord  Mellingham  had  won  a  reputation 
as  a  successful  man  of  business. 

A  homely  and  wistful  country  maid  interrupted 
Mrs.  Tavistock's  ruminations.  She  advanced  shyly 
and  greeted  the  visitor  with  a  salutation  which  was  a 
studied  foreshortening  of  a  curtsy. 

"If  I  had  but  known  that  you  were  here,  madam, 
I  would  have  come  before,"  she  said. 

"It's  quite  all  right,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock  kindly. 
"But  there  are  one  or  two  things  you  can  help  me 
with.  In  the  first  place,  just  show  me  which  of  all 
these  switches  on  the  wall  operates  which  thing." 

The  maid  sighed. 

"I  'ardly  know,  to  tell  the  truth  about  it,  madam," 
she  confessed  nervously.  "The  last  time  I  went  for 
to  set  the  fan  going,  I  went  and  warmed  up  that  flat- 
iron  thing." 

"Quite  possibly,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock  with  sym- 
pathetic gravity.  "They  all  ought  to  be  labelled, 
oughtn't  they?" 

"In  the  bathroom  they  are,"  said  the  maid. 

The  private  bathroom  adjoined  the  sleeping  apart- 
ment. The  maid  held  open  the  door  as  she  spoke, 
and  Mrs.  Tavistock  investigated  with  eager  curiosity. 


THE  DIPPERS  55 

Here,  as  the  maid  had  stated,  the  various  appliances 
attached  to  the  bath  were  stamped  respectively  with 
small  metal  tallies:  "wave,"  "splash,"  "plunge," 
"shower,"  "surf,"  "gurge,"  "swash"  and  "tornado." 
The  maid  watched  the  face  of  the  visitor  furtively 
as  the  latter  examined  these  bathing  facilities  in 
turn. 

"But,  how,  madam,  you  get  the  water  into  the 
bath  in  the  ordinary  Christian  manner,  I  have  not 
as  yet  found  out,"  she  confessed. 

"Never  mind,"  replied  Mrs.  Tavistock.  "When 
I  have  my  bath  I'll  try  swashing  for  a  start.  What's 
that  little  thing?  Perhaps  that  operates  the  ordin- 
ary water." 

"Don't  touch  it,  madam,"  cried  the  maid  warning- 
ly.  "That  thing  goes  and  heats  up  the  bath-mat 
enough  to  burn  the  soles  off  the  shoes  of  your  feet." 

"You  don't  seem  to  find  these  modern  conveniences 
save  you  a  great  deal  of  labour,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Tavistock,  as  she  returned  to  the  bedroom. 

"I  do  not,"  said  the  maid.  "I'm  not  used  to  such, 
and  they  only  get  giving  extra  trouble.  In  me 
last  place,  should  a  member  of  the  family  think  to 
have  a  bath  the  water  would  be  hotted  in  the  kitchen 
and  carried  up  in  a  can  as  is  the  natural  fashion. 
In  this  house  there  is  not  one  single,  honest  bath- 
can  to  be  found.  Only  crazinesses  like  of  this 
sort." 


56  THE  DIPPERS 

"But  still  it  is  not  a  very  good  principle  to  make 
complaints  to  visitors.  What  is  your  name  and 
where  was  your  last  place?" 

"Me  name  is  Minnie  and  me  last  place  was  at 
Squire  Pilling's  at  Wycombe  Parva,  and  if  I  did 
make  complaint  it  was  only  because,  madam,  if  you 
please,  you  smiled  so  kindly  like  as  if  you  could  un- 
derstand." 

"But  you  must  be  careful  not  to  let  people's  ap- 
pearances lead  you  to  speak  so  openly.  I  quite  under- 
stand your  not  finding  this  home  like  your  last  place. 
I  expect  it  is  very  much  larger  for  one  thing,  isn't 
it?" 

Minnie  shook  her  head  vigorously. 

"It  is  not  near  so  big,"  she  said.  "Why,  the  house 
at  Wycombe  Parva  is  bigger  by  a  whole  story  full  o' 
rooms.  And  the  grounds  are  not  so  big  either.  The 
Squire's  land  runs  further  than  any  estate  in  the 
neighbourhood." 

"Oh,  in  the  neighbourhood?  Something  Parva 
is  near  here,  then?" 

"It  can't  be  very  near,"  explained  Minnie,  "ow- 
ing to  the  stretch  o'  Squire  Pilling's  land;  but  the 
estate  runs  to  within  a  mile  o'  this  place." 

"Really,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock,  with  some  interest. 
"Here  is  my  key,  Minnie.  Unpack  my  dressing-case 
for  me,  will  you  please  ?  And  what  does  the  family 
consist  of?  Are  there  any  sons?" 


THE  DIPPERS  57 

"There  is  two,  Mister  Samuel  and  Mister  Oliver," 
replied  Minnie  with  enthusiasm. 

"And  do  they  often  come  here?" 

Minnie  looked  up  from  the  dressing-case  with  a 
vacant  expression  on  her  fresh,  red  face. 

"Where?"  she  asked. 

"Here.  To  this  house.  They  are  neighbours, 
you  say?" 

"They  would  never  come  here,"  said  Minnie  in  a 
voice  almost  of  horror. 

"Why  not?" 

Minnie  blushed  and  remained  silent  for  a  moment. 

"If  I  was  to  tell  you  the  true  reason,  madam,"  she 
said,  "maybe  you  would  think  I  ought  not  to  speak 
so,  especially  after  what  you  found  necessary  to  say 
to  me  just  now." 

"I  see.  I  suppose  there  has  been  some  little  mis- 
understanding between  his  lordship  and  Squire  What- 
youmaycallit.  Is  that  it?" 

"The  Squire  and  his  lady  are  County,"  Minnie 
whispered  as  though  making  her  confession. 

"Oh.  But  do  not  all  the  County  people  visit 
here?" 

Minnie  sought  her  interlocutor's  face  and  decided 
that  she  had  nothing  to  fear. 

"Not  one  of  them,"  she  replied.  "Not  what  I 
call  the  real  County  folks.  A  lot  of  the  people 
from  Coombe  Puddy  and  the  towns,  who  are  very 


58  THE  DIPPERS 

nice  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  be  sure,  they  come, 
madam.  But  the  old  County  families — the  real  old 
County  that  is,  like  the  Squire  and  Mrs.  Pilling  and 
the  Misses  Homer  of  Deepdale  and  Miss  Starch- 
field  and  Sir  Richard  and  Lady  Garner — they  holds 
aloft." 

"Indeed?  Miss  Starchfield?  H'm.  Have  you 
got  all  the  things  out  of  that  dressing-case,  Minnie?" 

"Yes,  madam,  all." 

"Oh  no,  I  think  there  is  still  something  in  there, 
isn't  there?" 

Minnie  inclined  the  dressing-case  laterally  and 
displayed  its  emptiness. 

"Dear,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock  with  a  tiny 
frown  of  vexation.  "I  must  have  left  it  at  home." 

"Oh,  madam.    Nothing  important?" 

"No,  no;  nothing  very  important.  Only  a  photo- 
graph." 

Her  mind  dwelt  affectionately  'upon  that  photo- 
graph in  its  solitary  state,  marooned  upon  the  other- 
wise dismantled  dressing-table  in  her  quiet  flat  in 
town — a  time-worn  leather  frame  encircling  the  like- 
ness of  a  stout,  middle-aged  man  with  kind  eyes  and 
a  smile  of  pensive  contentment  like  waning  sunshine 
likeness  of  Henry  Talboyes. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  company  to  which  Mrs.  Tavistock  was  in- 
troduced at  tea-time  reminded  that  discrim- 
inating lady  of  an  hotel  on  the  Brighton  Road 
at  lunch-time  on  a  Sunday  in  summer.     The  large 
majority  of  the  guests  assembled  were  male  and  the 
small   majority   Gentile.      Three   ladies    and   seven 
gentlemen  formed  the  party  prior  to  the  arrival  of 
Mrs.  Tavistock  and  Helen. 

She  maintained  her  cutomary  self-possession  un- 
der the  ordeal  of  introduction  to  these  persons.  The 
men  regarded  her  subtly  with  narrow  eyes,  as  though 
to  inform  her  that  they  were  already  parties  to  her 
secret.  The  ladies  protruded  their  nostrils  in  a  man- 
ner which  suggested  that  they  relied  upon  their  sense 
of  smell  to  gauge  her  merits.  One  only  of  the  party 
appeared  to  contrast  favorably  with  the  others.  This 
was  Peter  Dollery,  nephew  and  heir  presumptive  to 
Lord  Mellingham ;  a  presentable,  ordinary  youth,  un- 
spoilt as  yet  by  his  uncle's  efforts  to  instruct  him  in 
the  paths  of  nobility.  Mrs.  Tavistock  greeted  him 
pleasantly,  with  tidings  of  his  almost  unheard-of 

59 


V 

60  THE  DIPPERS 

Croydon  relatives,  and  relegated  him  Hopefully  to 
Helen. 

Tea,  though  elaborate,  was  served  in  an  expeditious 
manner.  Urns  and  dishes  were  placed  upon  a 
specially  devised  stand  which  was  set  on  wheels  with 
small  pneumatic  tyres.  This  article  of  furniture 
was  propelled  without  loss  of  dignity  by  one  of  the 
two  footmen,  William  and  Francis,  or,  on  occasions 
when  the  number  of  guests  demanded  a  particularly 
heavy  load  of  tea,  by  both. 

When  Mrs.  Tavistock  and  Helen  made  their  ap- 
pearance they  found  that  the  other  members  of  the 
party  had  already  fallen  on  this  tea-stand  with  con*, 
siderable  relish.  Four  of  them  had  completed  the 
meal,  and  the  introductions  interrupted  a  rubber  of 
Bridge.  The  remainder  were  grouped  round  Lord 
Mellingham,  eagerly  discussing  the  prospects  of  the 
dance  and  criticizing  the  arrangements. 

"Ah,"  cried  his  lordship  rapturously,  stretching 
out  his  arms  towards  Mrs.  Tavistock,  "here  is  our 
arbiter.  My  dear  lady,  I  am  being  subjected  to  a: 
great  deal  of  criticism.  In  my  praiseworthy  efforts 
to  entertain  you,  I  have,  it  appears,  committed  a 
grievous  mistake." 

"I  don't  think  so  at  all,"  put  in  one  of  the  male 
guests,  who  was  standing  beside  his  host.  This  was 
a  short  gentleman  of  a  dark  and  rather  mottled 
countenance.  He  seemed  very  much  at  his  ease  in 


THE  DIPPERS  6 1 

the  company  of  his  distinguished  host,  for  he  only 
removed  his  thumbs  from  the  arm-holes  of  his 
waistcoat  in  order  to  seize  a  small  cucumber  sandwich 
which  he  devoured  in  one  mouthful.  "I  don't  think 
so  at  all,"  repeated  this  gentleman.  "Don't  know 
the  Dipper  duo  meself,  but  these  country  folks  of 
yours  don't  know  the  difference,  so  what  does  it 
matter?" 

"Pray,  Mrs.  Tavistock,  allow  me  to  offer  you 
some  tea,"  said  Lord  Mellingham.  "And,  when 
you  have  partaken,  I  beg  you  to  come  to  my  aid." 

"What  is  troubling  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Tavistock. 

"Well,  in  my  anxiety  to  make  to-morrow's  en- 
tertainment as — what  shall  I  say? — fashionable  as 
possible — for  you  know,  Mrs.  Tavistock  that  even 
in  these  secluded  parts  of  the  country,  people  delight 
in  trying  to  follow  the  fashions  of  the  town — I  be- 
thought myself  of  engaging  a  couple  of  those  pro- 
fessional dancers  who  appear,  so  I  am  told,  at  the 
dancing  clubs  and  some  of  the  restaurants  of  Lon- 
don. My  idea  was  that  they  should  perform  at  in- 
tervals during  the  evening,  and  should  provide  my 
guests  with  an  object  lesson  in  the  intricacies  of 
the  dance  which  my  nephew  informs  me  is  known 
as  'juzz.' " 

"Well,  what  happened?" 

"I  made  inquiries  of  an  agency,  with  a  view  to 
obtaining  the  most  celebrated  of  these  professional 


62  THE  DIPPERS 

couples.  Naturally,  I  mean  to  say,  one  wishes  to 
guarantee  that  in  such  an  instance  the  agents  shall 
not  take  advantage  of  their  client  being  in  the  coun- 
try to " 

"Unload  their  duds  on  yer,"  put  in  the  small, 
dark  visitor,  eating. 

Lord  Mellingham  produced  some  correspondence 
from  his  breast  pocket  and  reviewed  it  critically. 

"I  have  received  several  letters  from  the  agents," 
he  proceeded.  "They  were  unable  to  secure  any  of 
the  most  celebrated  dancers  for  an  engagement  so 
far  from  London,  despite  the  fact  that  I  offered  to 
find  them  sleeping  accommodation  in  the  Hall." 

"In  the  hall?"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock  "I  should 
hardly  consider  that  an  enticement." 

"In  Mellingham  Hall.  In  the  house,  my  dear 
lady,"  explained  the  peer  with  forbearance. 

"Oh,  I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock,  a  little  de- 
pressed to  observe  that  the  company  regarded  her 
with  silent  surprise. 

"However,"  said  Lord  Mellingham,  "they  event- 
ually made  an  engagement  on  my  behalf.  They 
are  sending  down  some  persons  whom  they  describe 
as — yes,  b'rh'hm,"  he  turned  to  his  correspondence — 
"as  'specialists  who  have  achieved  considerable  rep- 
utation in  America,  and  who  have  proved  highly 
successful  in  their  engagements  hitherto  in  this  coun- 
try. We  have  no  hesitation  in  recommending  your 


THE  DIPPERS  63 

lordship  to  extend  your  patronage  to  these  artistes, 
who  we  are  confident  will  fully  justify  the  same.' 
The  artistes  in  question  are  known  as  Hank  and 
Pauline  Dipper." 

"Not  to  me,"  said  a  stout  lady  from  the  Bridge 
table.  "I've  never  heard  of  them,  and  I  don't  mind 
betten'  nobody  else  has  either.  Two  diamonds." 

"I  agree  with  you,  Mrs.  Appleby,"  said  another 
of  the  players.  "We  shall  find  that  they  might  just 
as  well  be  a  couple  of  amateurs.  I've  seen  one  or 
two  of  these  dancing  duo  acts,  and  as  a  rule  they 
don't  come  out  with  anything  one  can't  do  oneself." 

"I  rather  think,"  said  Lord  Mellingham  in  a  sin- 
ister manner,  "that  they  will  not  impose  upon  me. 
If  I  find  that  they  are  second-rate,  I  shall  take  steps 
to  put  matters  right." 

"What  will  you  do?  Give  another  dance  and 
get  some  better  people?"  asked  Mrs.  Tavistock  in- 
nocently. 

But  his  lordship  refrained  from  divulging  the 
secrets  of  his  hypothetical  plans  for  revenge. 

"Of  course  the  chief  difficulty  will  be  to  decide 
whether  they  have  been  dancing  well  or  badly,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Tavistock.  "I  have  sometimes  seen 
English  girls  dancing  quite  as  well  in  my  opinion  as 
some  of  the  Russian  prima  ballerine,  even  those  with 
the  longest  names.  It's  a  case  for  individual  taste, 
isn't  it?" 


'64.  THE  DIPPERS 

"Now,  Mrs.  Tavistock,"  said  Mr.  Harris,  the 
short  dark  gentleman  of  the  cucumber  sandwiches. 

"Yes,  now  just  as  much  as  before  the  war 

"I  didn't  say  'naow,'  I  said  'now' — meaning  not 
sow!  I  can't  agree.  I  could  tell  you  a  decent  act 
from  a  dud  in  half  a  tick." 

"Uncle,"  chimed  in  the  voice  of  Peter  from  a  cor- 
ner of  the  room,  "Helen  says  she  knows  something 
of  this  fellow  Dipper." 

This  announcement  caused  general  and  critical  in- 
terest. Helen,  blushing  shyly,  was  called  upon. 
Mrs.  Tavistock  seized  the  opportunity  to  remark: 

"Oh,  well,  Helen  goes  everywhere.  She's  likely 
to  be  the  best  authority." 

It  appeared  that  Helen  had  never  actually  en- 
countered Mr.  Hank  Dipper,  but  that  gentleman's 
name  was  familiar  to  her  by  reason  of  his  having 
been  responsible  for  certain  magazine  articles  upon 
hygienic  culture  in  the  home,  which  had  made  a 
special  appeal  to  her  progressive  views.  The  lady 
at  the  card  table  stated  that  in  her  opinion  the  fact 
that  Mr.  Dipper  was  driven  to  push  his  name  be- 
'fore  the  public  by  such  means  argued  a  struggle  to 
obtain  recognition  and  engagements.  Mrs.  Appleby 
was,  however,  handicapped  in  the  delivery  of  this 
criticism  by  the  retention  of  a  cigarette-holder  of 
unusual  size  between  her  lips;  and  Mrs.  Tavistock 
scored  with  a  final  pronouncement  that,  in  her 


THE  DIPPERS  65 

opinion,  the  very  names  Hank  and  Pauline  Dipper 
were  resonant  with  the  spirit  of  jazz. 

Lord  Mellingham  was  delighted  with  her  ready 
sociability.  What  a  hostess!  He  stood  over  her 
and  practically  pushed  the  remainder  of  her  tea  at 
her,  after  which  he  invited  her  to  accompany  him 
for  a  stroll  in  the  grounds.  Mrs.  Tavistock  ac- 
cepted gracefully,  but  showed  curious  lack  of  per- 
ception in  bidding  Helen  accompany  them.  His 
lordship  discounted  this  by  bidding  Peter  accompany 
Helen,  but  his  efforts  in  the  course  of  the  stroll  to 
shake  off  the  younger  couple  were  frustrated.  And 
it  was  poor  Mrs.  Tavistock  who  was  unconsciously 
responsible  for  this  adversity.  True,  she  responded 
with  gay  animation  to  her  host  as,  walking  in  ad- 
vance with  her,  he  sought  her  opinion  on  this  or 
that  feature  of  his  grounds  or  terrace.  The  combin- 
ation sun-dial  and  weather  prophet,  for  instance, 
proved  to  have  so  great  a  fascination  for  her  that 
she  must  needs  pause  and  subject  it  to  prolonged  ex' 
amination,  shouting  to  Helen  to  come  and  behold  the 
marvellous  object. 

"What  a  tiny  little  summer-house,"  she  cried. 
"Why,  there's  only  room  for  about  two  people  in  it." 

"I  understand  that  to  be  a  feature  of  the  pattern," 
replied  his  lordship  dryly.  "In  the  catalogue  it  is 
designated  'The  Cuddly  House,'  which  I  presume  is 
the  designer's  method  of  suggesting  that  his  outhouse 


66  THE  DIPPERS 

has  been  constructed  mainly  for  purposes  of  tete-a- 
tete.  Shall  we  enter?" 

"I  think  I  see  a  spider  there,"  said  Mrs.  Tavi- 
stock,  peering  tentatively  within. 

"A  spider?     Oh,  surely  no?" 

''Yes,  a  big  one.  Don't  kill  it,  Lord  Melling- 
ham." 

"Kill  it,  my  dear  lady — I  fail  even  to  see  it.  But 
a  spider  in  my  new  summer-house !  I  will  inform 
my  head-gardener  of  this." 

As  a  last  resort  his  lordship  presently  turned  to 
Peter  and  ordered  him  to  take  Helen  and  show  her 
the  lake.  His  manner  seemed  to  convey  a  hint  that 
Peter  should  throw  Helen  into  it.  He  stole  a  satis- 
fied glance  at  the  dainty  features  of  the  widow  and 
found  them  radiant  with  a  new  enthusiasm. 

"A  lake,"  cried  Mrs.  Tavistock.  "I  love  a  lake. 
Do  take  me  to  see  it  too.  Do  you  punt  much?" 

"I  think  we  might  leave  such  exercises  to  these 
youngsters,"  replied  Lord  Mellingham  nervously. 

"Oh,  I'm  not  too  old  to  punt,"  said  Mrs.  Tavis- 
tock briskly.  "And,  in  any  case,  Lord  Mellingham, 
if  you  had  had  the  misfortune  to  live  near  the  river, 
as  I  have,  you  would  realize  that  it  is  a  recognized 
thing  to  be  quite  elderly  in  a  punt." 

"But,  alas,  I  do  not  keep  a  punt  on  this  lake,"  said 
Lord  Mellingham,  hastening  to  keep  pace  with  the 
others  who  were  now  moving  rapidly  in  the  direc- 


THE  DIPPERS  67 

tion  of  the  artificial  pool,  one  of  the  many  scenic 
attractions  of  the  estate. 

"No  punt?  You  are  not  a  keen  punter  perhaps? 
Never  mind." 

"My  dear  lady,"  pleaded  the  stout  and  fervant 
peer,  breathless  in  his  efforts  to  remain  at  her  side, 
"to-morrow  I  will  send  to  the — most  reliable  firm 
• — in  the  country  for  their — punt  catalogue " 

"Oh,  why  should  you?    You  don't  care  about  it." 

"I  never  considered  the — matter  until  now.  I — 
must  do  so.  I — should  enjoy  it,  I  am  confident.  I 
feel  it  would — be  delightful  to  be  able  to  punt  you 
about." 

So  far  but  no  further  did  the  worthy  host  succeed 
that  evening.  No  matter;  the  opportunity  was  bound 
to  offer  itself  shortly.  Better  that  the  first,  doubtless 
rather  bewildering  impressions  of  Mellingham  Hall 
should  be  allowed  to  sink.  "Sink,"  he  repeated  the 
thought  to  himself,  as  he  performed  his  elaborate 
toilet  for  dinner.  He  scrutinized  his  countenance  in 
the  mirror,  speculating  on  the  effect  which  such  a 
face  would  have  upon  himself,  were  he  to  meet  him- 
self. It  was  a  face  at  which,  Lord  Mellingham 
thought,  most  women  would  look  twice.  Here  he 
was  right.  There  was  a  suggestion  of  comfort,  he 
told  himself  in  the  chin;  of  sensitive  geniality  in  the 
nose.  He  found  in  his  eyes  a  gleam  of  almost  repre- 
hensible insinuation.  And,  crowning  all,  was  that 


68  THE  DIPPERS 

dome  of  intellect,  from  which  the  sparse  grey  hairs, 
carefully  tended  and  glistening  with  pomatum,  lay 
obediently  back  on  either  side  of  the  broad  nat- 
ural parting.  Yes,  it  was  a  remarkable  face.  A 
woman  of  Mrs.  Tavistock's  discrimination  might 
have  hesitated  to  accept  an  ugly  man,  whatever  might 
be  his  rank  and  possessions.  But  this  was,  thank 
God,  a  remarkable  face — full  of  character.  Lord 
Mellingham  patted  it.  "Yes,  sink,  sink,"  he  repeated 
thoughtfully. 

The  idea  of  failure  did  not  occur  to  him  from  the 
outset.  Ever  since  the  day,  now  some  months  past, 
when  he  had  established  himself  permanently  in  the 
garnished  magnificence  of  the  Hall,  it  had  been  ob- 
vious that  the  neighbourhood  expected,  nay  intended, 
him  to  marry.  Striving  matrons  had  lugged  their 
eligibles  from  premeditated  seclusion  and  borne  them 
down  to  the  Hall  with  hoarse  whispers  of  final  ad- 
monition almost  audible  above  the  crunching  wheels 
of  the  limousines,  as  they  drew  up  in  the  gravel  drive. 
These  attentions  delighted  his  lordship,  who  received 
them  with  the  dispassionate  urbanity  of  a  caliph  in- 
specting candidates  for  his  exclusive  harem. 

But  no  heart — even  his — could  be  penetrated  by 
a  slow  and  systematic  method  of  boring.  In  one 
inspired  moment  the  merry,  almost  challenging  eyes 
of  Mrs.  Tavistock  had  pierced  the  objective  which 
had  blunted  the  time-worn  shafts  of  Coombe  Puddy. 


THE  DIPPERS  69 

And  it  certainly  never  crossed  his  mind  that  the  ob- 
jective could  be  anything  but  a  prize  of  the  rarest 
value  in  the  ambitions  of  woman. 

His  lordship  had  been  married  before — hence  the 
rather  inappropriate  affinity  with  Mrs.  Monk — but 
the  history  of  that  brief  episode,  had  been  shelved 
in  an  early  volume  of  his  life's  romance ;  before  the 
days  of  his  business  triumphs  and  of  his  association 
with  the  House  of  Commons,  the  most  notable  clubs 
and  Who's  Who.  One  had  but  to  glance  at  the 
synopsis  of  his  success  in  the  latter  to  note  the  rapid- 
ity of  his  rise  to  greatness.  His  peerage  dated  from 
the  Armistice,  being  the  reward  of  prolific  activity 
in  unidentified  Government  departments.  He  had 
been  Percival  Dollery,  M.P.,  since  1900,  and  form- 
erly chairman  of  a  well-known  firm  of  Government 
contractors — his  retirement  on  joining  the  Govern- 
ment had  been  unnecessarily  ostensible.  His  clubs 
could  be  ascertained — lugubrious  institutions  of  hack- 
neyed eminence — his  favourite  recreation,  garden- 
ing. And  true  it  was  that  Lord  Mellingham  took 
great  pride  and  pleasure  in  his  grounds  and  in  the 
army  of  labourers  whom  he  employed  to  preserve 
the  symmetrical  elegance  of  lawns  and  shrubberies; 
but  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  recreation  which 
he  candidly  favoured  above  all  others  was  to  stand 
before  his  drawing-room  fireplace,  against  the  back- 
ground of  sprouting  Cupids,  with  the  icicles  of  the 


7o  THE  DIPPERS 

chandeliers  tinkling  faintly  above  his  head;  and  to 
receive  the  optimistic  flattery  of  such  eminent  rustics 
as  Sir  Enoch  and  Lady  Pharo  of  Deepcombe  Magna, 
with  their  rather  green  daughter,  Gloria;  Mrs.  Duck- 
ingham-Leape  of  Coombe  Puddy,  and  even  Mrs.  and 
the  Misses  Bodie,  all  the  way  from  Maiden  Blot- 
ten. 

Alas,  for  the  vain  hopes  of  Gloria  Pharo  and 
of  Fanny  Bodie!  As  Lord  Mellingham  ceased  to 
stroke  his  face  in  order  to  shave  it,  he  beamed  again 
at  the  thought  of  that  divine  creature  in  the  well- 
appointed  room  at  the  end  of  the  corridor.  Was  she, 
he  wondered,  thinking  of  him  at  that  moment  with 
the  joy  of  wondrous  revelation  in  her  eyes. 

At  that  moment  no,  it  must  be  confessed,  she  was 
not.  At  that  moment  she  was  endeavouring  vainly 
to  secure,  with  the  inexpert  assistance  of  Minnie, 
some  happy  medium  between  an  influx  of  literally 
boiling  water  through  the  pipe  labelled  "wave"  and 
an  intermittent  downpour  of  petrifying  chill  from  the 
"shower." 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN  the  course  of  his  brief  journey  between  the 
station  and  the  Hall,  Henry  Talboyes  indulged 
in  optimistic  rehearsal  of  the  appeal  he  was 
about  to  make  to  the  lordly  owner  of  the  comfort- 
able and  rapid  car.  The  chauffeur  had  unwittingly 
testified  to  the  genial  nature  of  his  master,  and,  if 
Talboyes  could  but  overcome  his  own  tendency  to 
shyness  and  confusion  in  stating  his  case,  the  only 
question  would  be  as  to  whether  he  should  accept 
a  night's  hospitality  at  the  Hall,  in  lieu  of  the  visitor 
who  had  failed  to  arrive,  or  whether  he  should  pre- 
fer being  set  on  his  road  to  London.  He  repeated 
the  preliminary  words  of  explanation,  which  he  had 
devised,  several  times  to  himself. 

He  also  'decided  that,  since  there  was  a  large  num- 
ber of  guests  at  the  Hall,  he  would  ask  to  be  con- 
ducted to  his  lordship,  whom  he  hoped  to  be  allowed 
to  interview  in  private.  He  felt  that,  if  he  were 
called  upon  to  stand  and  deliver  his  explanation  be- 
fore a  large  crowd  of  strangers  in  full  dress,  there 
was  a  possibility  of  his  forgetting  his  words  and  look- 


72  THE  DIPPERS 

ing  an  ass.  On  the  other  hand,  he  felt  confident  that 
a  few  moments  quiet  conversation  with  his  lordship 
would  settle  the  whole  difficulty;  and  Talboyes  leant 
back  against  the  soft  cushions  of  the  car  and  mur- 
mured his  part  to  himself  with  increasing  confidence. 

That  day  had  witnessed  a  remarkable  transforma- 
tion in  the  appearance  of  the  drawing-room  at  Mel- 
lingham  Hall.  A  small  army  of  domestics,  with 
Wattle  in  command  and  William  and  Francis  as 
company  commanders,  had  stripped  the  room  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  furniture,  and  had  reverently 
rolled  up  the  spacious  carpet.  Lord  Mellingham, 
who  was  opposed  to  half-measures  in  the  matter  of 
entertaining  his  guests,  had  ordered  Wattle  to  invent 
means  whereby  the  surface  of  the  floor  should  ac- 
quire the  polish  which  he  understood  to  be  essential 
to  the  dance.  His  lordship  had  personally  tested  the 
result  with  more  than  one  portion  of  his  anatomy, 
and  had  pronounced  it  to  be  slippery.  Mr.  Harris 
had  tested  it  and  had  described  it  as  a  coloured  rink. 
Mrs.  Tavistock  had  ventured  a  few  yards  and  had 
congratulated  Wattle,  but  suggested  that  he  might 
even  tone  it  down  a  trifle,  and  had  herself  superin- 
tended this  process,  while  his  lordship  remained  in 
the  sanctuary  of  the  doorway,  encouraging  her  with 
a  monotonous  refrain  of: 

"Oh,  thank  you,  dear  lady,  thank  you.  It  dis- 
tresses me  to  see  you  put  to  such  trouble.  Thank 


THE  DIPPERS  73 

you.  Thank  you.  That  will  be  much  better  now. 
I  am  so  distressed  that  you  should — thank  you  a 
thousand  times.  I  am  sure  that  will  meet  the  case. 
Thank  you  again.  Pray  do  not  over-exert  yourself. 
I  am  sure  that  cannot  be  improved  upon  now.  Thank 
you  so  much.  In  this  heat.  There  we  are.  Splen- 
did! Thank  you.  No?  Not  quite  as  you  would 
have  it?  Ah,  but  pray  do  not  let  us  trouble  you  fur- 
ther. That's  better.  How  can  I  ever  thank  you?" 
At  the  moment  when  Henry  Talboyes  emerged 
from  the  interior  of  the  car,  and,  having  surveyed 
the  marble  pillars  with  a  feeling  of  awe  which  drove 
every  syllable  of  his  introductory  speech  from  his 
memory,  was  wafted  into  a  state  of  still  more  abject 
indecision  by  a  short  ride  on  the  tiger-skin,  the  draw- 
ing-room was  occupied  by  four  gentlemen  who  were 
almost  as  alien  to  the  house  as  he.  These  were  the 
members  of  what  is  commonly  known  as  a  "coon" 
or  "jazz"  band.  Lord  Mellingham,  having  been 
informed  by  his  nephew  that  such  an  innovation 
would  prove  an  asset  to  the  success  of  the  dance, 
had  hastened  to  engage  this  quartet  through  an 
agency  rival  to  that  which  had  allowed  his  town 
friends  the  means  for  anticipatory  complaint  in  the 
matter  of  the  professional  dancers.  Sleeping  accom- 
modation for  the  band  had  been  secured  at  the 
Plough  Inn,  and  its  members  were  now  enjoying 
light  refreshment  in  the  drawing-room,  before  enter- 


74  THE  DIPPERS 

ing  upon  tHe  drastic  duties  of  the  evening.  Indeed, 
meals  were  being  served  in  several  quarters  of  the 
establishment.  In  the  dining-room  a  sumptuous  re- 
past was  in  progress.  Not  only  the  house  party  but 
all  the  country  guests  of  the  occasion  had  been  in- 
vited to  partake  of  dinner  before  working  off  its 
effects  in  the  exercise  of  dancing;  while  upstairs,  in 
the  double  room  which  had  been  reserved  for  her, 
Mrs.  Pauline  Dipper  was  toying  querulously  with 
the  delicate  repast  which  apprehension  forbade  her 
to  enjoy. 

For  at  the  stated  hour  and  by  the  pre-appointed 
train,  Mrs.  Pauline  Dipper  had  arrived  alone.  Ex- 
amined as  to  the  non-appearance  of  her  husband,  she 
admitted  reluctantly  that  she  had  "lost  track  of  Hank 
for  the  moment."  She  asserted  definitely,  however, 
that  Hank  was  fully  aware  of  his  engagement  to 
appear  at  the  Hall  that  evening,  and  expressed  the 
conviction  that  he  would  come  in  time  to  fulfil  it, 
though  whether  he  would  make  the  journey  by  rail 
or  by  road  she  could  not  say.  The  mistrust  of  Mr. 
Harris  and  Mrs.  Appleby,  who  nearly  succeeded  in 
swallowing  her  cigarette-holder  during  the  interview 
at  which  she  made  a  point  of  being  present,  was 
rather  mollified  by  the  suggestion  that  this  hired 
dancer  was  in  the  habit  of  motoring  into  the  depths 
of  the  country  in  order  to  entertain  his  patrons. 
Moreover,  Mrs.  Dipper's  personal  appearance  dis- 


THE  DIPPERS  isi 

armed  the  criticisms  of  all  the  male  connoisseurs 
among  Lord  Mellingham's  London  friends  by  being 
what  Mr.  Harris  described,  in  a  brief  but  suggestive 
aside,  as  "All  right." 

But  the  evening  had  run  its  course  and  night  was 
at  hand,  and  as  yet  no  Hank  had  made  his  appear- 
ance. His  absence  threatened  to  cast  a  pall  of  gloom 
over  the  whole  household.  The  agitated  Lord  Mel- 
lingham  turned  in  despair  to  Mrs.  Tavistock  for 
succour,  appearing  to  regard  her  in  the  light  of  a 
Sibyl,  who  could  summon  Hank  in  much  the  same 
way  as  he  himself  was  wont  to  summon  his  hot  water. 
The  dejected  sympathy  of  his  country  visitors  was 
almost  as  irksome  to  him  as  the  cynical  banter  of 
the  Londoners.  The  depression  of  the  noble  host 
was  so  marked  that  it  could  scarcely  fail  to  affect 
every  one  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 

Hence  that  cry  of  enthusiasm  which  had  greeted 
Talboyes  when  the  chauffeur  had  found  him  languish- 
ing in  the  cow-shed.  Hence  the  wink  of  triumph 
with  which  the  same  agent  handed  him  over  to  Fran- 
cis at  the  front  door,  and  the  little  gasp  of  relief 
with  which  the  footman  received  him.  Hence  the 
unquestioning  ardour  which  moved  Francis  to  pro- 
ceed rapidly  in  advance,  to  inform  Mr.  Wattle  of 
Hank's  belated  arrival.  Hence  the  fact  that  Henry 
Talboyes  had  time  to  collect  the  papers  from  the 
floor  of  the  outer  hall,  after  trying  to  carry  his 


76  THE  DIPPERS 

bag  over   the    tiger-skin,    without    being    observed. 

The  papers  had  been  regained  and  replaced  in 
the  bag  by  the  time  that  Wattle  had  made  his  way 
to  the  doorway  of  the  Armorial  Hall.  He  had  issued 
careful  injunctions  as  to  the  attitude  of  the  Hall 
servants  towards  these  professional  persons  from 
London.  "The  Christy  Minstrel  party,  who  does 
the  band-playing  part  of  the  concern,"  he  had  di- 
rected, "are  to  be  spoke  to  only  when  necessary  and 
then  with  great  aloofness.  Though  first  cousin  to 
monkeys,  they  are  in  no  case  to  be  treated  jocular. 
The  dancing  persons  are  guests  in  the  house,  and  the 
Old  Bedroom  has  been  set  aside  for  them.  They 
must  consequently  be  'andled  in  every  way  as  the 
guests  of  his  lordship  should  be  'andled." 

Wattle  regarded  Talboyes'  nervousness,  which  had 
by  this  time  returned  with  almost  paralysing  force, 
as  due  partly  to  his  consciousness  of  having  been 
unpunctual  and  having  given  unnecessary  trouble,  and 
partly  to  his  shyness  of  finding  himself  within  the 
portals  of  one  of  the  noble  homes  of  the  rich.  The 
butler  felt  called  upon,  in  the  interests  of  his  lord- 
ship, to  do  his  utmost  to  restore  the  confidence  of  this 
professional  person,  whom  he  secretly  despised  not  a 
little. 

"Ho,  yes.    Good  evening,  sir,"  he  began. 

"Good  evening,"  said  Talboyes.  "May  I  see  his 
lordship?" 


THE  DIPPERS  £7 

Wattle,  who  felt  inclined  to  reply,  "Not  until  you 
have  recovered  your  calm,"  temporized  by  remark- 
ing: 

"You  missed  your  train,  I  understand?" 

"Yes,  oh  yes,"  answered  Talboyes  with  a  sigh,  "I 
missed  my  train." 

"  'Owever." 

"No,  not  however.    You  see " 

"I  beg  your  pardon?"  said  Wattle,  perplexed  by 
this  strange,  impetuous  man. 

"Could  I  see  his  lordship  at  once?"  cried  Talboyes 
imploringly. 

"His  lordship  has  not  yet  finished  his  dinner,  sir." 

"Dinner!"  Talboyes  repeated  the  word  wistfully 
to  himself. 

"I  will  inform  his  lordship  of  your  arrival,"  said 
Wattle,  indicating  one  of  the  chairs  of  the  inner  hall, 
and  beginning  to  move  majestically  towards  the  door 
of  the  dining-room. 

"Yes — er — but — but  don't — you  won't  do  any- 
thing to — to  ruffle  him,  will  you?"  said  Talboyes, 
following.  "Because " 

Wattle  turned  and  smiled  soothingly.  This  ex- 
citable person  must,  he  felt,  be  calmed  down  into  a 
condition  of  tranquility  befitting  one  of  his  lordship's 
guests. 

"On  the  contrary,  sir,"  he  said  gently.  "His  lord- 
ship was  growing  anxious  about  you,  and  will  now 


78  THE  DIPPERS 

be  only  too  pleased  to  hear  of  your  arrival  notwith- 
standing." 

"Notwithstanding — yes,  that's  the  point." 

"I  beg  your  pardon?" 

"I  hope,"  continued  Talboyes,  with  a  gallant  at- 
tempt at  fortitude,  "that  his  lordship  is — is  in  his 
usual  capital  form?" 

"I  was  not  aware  that  you  was  personally  ac- 
quainted, sir,"  said  Wattle,  with  a  touch  of  resent- 
ment. 

"No,  no,  I'm  not,"  replied  Talboyes  hastily.  "But 
everybody  knows  that  he's  such  a  particularly  kind- 
hearted  man.  He  has  that  reputation  on  all  sides — 
popular  with  high  and  low." 

Wattle  made  a  short  bow,  as  though  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  a  compliment  which  he  did  not  relish, 
and,  merely  saying,  "I  will  inform  his  lordship  of 
your  arrival,"  proceeded  towards  the  dining-room. 
As  he  opened  the  door,  the  hum  of  conversation 
within  was  audible,  and  Talboyes  listened  to  it  with 
eager  apprehension.  There  were  evidently  many 
diners.  He  might  be  bidden  to  enter  the  room  to 
stand  in  all  his  shame  before  that  awe-inspiring 
tribunal  and  to  blurt  out  his  confession.  The  idea 
sent  a  cold  thrill  of  horror  down  his  spine.  He 
glanced  at  the  hall  door.  Should  he  seize  his  bag 
and  bolt?  Too  late.  Francis  was  already  prepar- 


THE  DIPPERS  79 

Ing  to  put  that  unreliable  article  to  the  test  of  being 
conveyed  upstairs. 

"Hi  I"  cried  Talboyes.  "What  are  you  doing  with 
that  bag?" 

"I  was  only  going  to  take  it  to  your  room,  sir." 

"Leave  it  alone,"  commanded  Talboyes  in  panic. 

Francis  raised  his  eyebrows  and  replaced  the  bag 
on  the  floor. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Talboyes,  recover- 
ing himself.  "Don't  please  trouble  about  it,  that's 
all." 

"Oh,  it's  no  trouble,  sir,"  said  Francis,  picking 
the  bag  up  again. 

"Don't  touch  it,"  repeated  Talboyes.  "I'm  very 
much  obliged  to  you,  all  the  same.  But  I  don't  want 
it  upstairs." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  said  Francis,  still  holding  the 
bag.  "But  where  would  you  like  it  put?" 

"Don't  put  it,"  replied  Talboyes,  gesticulating 
nervously.  "It  won't  stand  putting  about.  I'll  put  it 
myself,  if  it's  got  to  be  put." 

"Oh,  just  as  you  please,  sir,"  said  Francis  sadly. 

"Yes,  thanks,"  said  Talboyes  with  a  conciliatory 
smile.  "You  see  it's  weak  at  the  harsp." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir?" 

"All  right.  You  needn't  do  that.  Only  do  just 
let  the  thing  be." 

An  increased  hubbub  of  conversation  from  the  din- 


80  THE  DIPPERS 

ing-room,  as  Wattle  reopened  the  door,  here  dis- 
tracted Talboyes'  attention  from  Francis  and  the 
bag.  Wattle's  announcement  seemed  to  have  had  a 
most  encouraging  effect  upon  the  party  within.  Wat- 
tle himself  confirmed  this. 

"His  lordship  is  very  pleased  to  hear  that  you  have 
arrived,"  he  stated. 

"Was  that  his  lordship  I  heard  laughing  when  the 
door  was  open?"  asked  Talboyes. 

"It  was,"  said  Wattle. 

Talboyes  rubbed  his  hands. 

"He  seems  in  excellent  form,"  he  said. 

"His  lordship  says  that  you  are  to  be  shown  to 
your  room  to  dress,  sir." 

"Ah,  yes,  but — no — yes,  you  see — no "  said 

Talboyes,  showing  considerable  agitation. 

"The  footman  will  show  you  the  way,"  said  Wat- 
tle, with  polite  insistence.  "Take  that  bag, 
Francis." 

"No,  no,  Francis,  remember,"  said  Talboyes 
warningly.  "I'm  afraid,"  he  continued,  turning  to 
Wattle,  "that  I  can't  dress.  You  see " 

"Ho,  haven't  you  brought  your  dress  clothes  with 
you,  sir?"  said  Wattle,  glancing  with  some  suspicion 
at  the  bag. 

"I — er — I've  lost  them,"  replied  Talboyes.  "But 
that  isn't  the  point  exactly.  I  want  to  see  his  lord- 
ship undressed." 


THE  DIPPERS  8 1 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  catch  your  meaning," 
said  Wattle  coldly. 

"I  mean — I,  undressed,  want.  This  is  the  point. 
I  can't  dress  until  I've  seen  his  lordship.  I  want  to 
explain." 

Wattle  scratched  his  chin. 

"Per'aps,"  he  said,  "his  lordship  would  see  you  at 
once  if " 

"No,  no,"  cried  Talboyes.  "I  should  hate  to  dis- 
turb his  lordship  in  the  middle  of  his  dinner.  It- 
might  disagree  with  him." 

"Would  you  not  care  for  me  to  ask  his  lordship 
whether  he  would  not  care  for  you  to  step  in  and  see 
him?  His  lordship  would  very  likely  have  no  objec- 
tion to  waive  formality' " 

"But  /  should,"  said  Talboyes  firmly.  "I've  the 
very  strongest  objection  to — to  waiving  formalities. 
I  should  be  the  last  person  to  agree  to  going  in  there 
and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"Well,  sir,  then  I  had  better  go  and  inform  his 
lordship  that  you  have  lost  your  clothes  and  have 
arrived  without  any." 

"Yes,  only  make  it  quite  clear  that  you  are  only 
referring  to  my  dress  clothes.  At  the  same  time 
I'd  very  much  rather  wait  and  see  his  lordship  my- 
self  " 

"I  think  it  quite  probable,  sir,  that  rather  than 
not  have  your — your  society,  his  lordship  will  see 


82  THE  DIPPERS 

whether  he  can't  lend  you  some  clothes.  You  are 
very  nearly  of  his  lordship's  build  and " 

"Yes,  thanks.  When  I  see  him  I'll — we  shall  be 
able  to "  Talboyes  hesitated. 

"I  think,  sir,"  said  Wattle  paternally,  "that  I  had 
best  go  and  tell  his  lordship  just  how  it  is." 

"But  I  tell  you,  I  want  to  see  him,  myself,"  said 
Talboyes  desperately. 

"I'll  see  that  that's  all  right,  sir,"  said  Wattle  with 
a  soothing  smile,  as  he  returned  once  more  to  the 
dining-room. 

A  voice  at  Talboyes'  shoulder  caused  him  to  start 
guiltily.  But  it  was  only  that  of  the  chauffeur. 

"Can  you  tell  me,  sir,  please,  whether  you  will 
be  taking  the  car  out  again  to-night,  or  not?" 

"Not  yet,"  said  Talboyes. 

"I  know  you  won't  be  wanting  it  yet,  sir,"  said 
the  chauffeur,  "but — early  in  the  morning,  perhaps?" 

"Early  in  the  morning?     Good  heavens,  no." 

"Oh,  you  won't,  sir?     Very  good.     Thank  you!" 

"No.  Yes.  That  is,  perhaps,"  said  Talboyes. 
"I — it  hasn't  been  quite  decided  yet." 

Again  the  sounds  of  hilarity  burst  forth  from 
within  the  dining-room.  Wattle,  leaving  the  apart- 
ment, found  Talboyes  standing  in  great  trepidation 
on  each  foot  in  turn,  and  suspected  him  of  practising 
in  the  Armorial  Hall. 

"His  lordship,"  he  announced  with  finality,  "de- 


THE  DIPPERS  83 

sires  me  to  convey  you  to  his  room,  sir,  and  to  looK 
you  out  some  clothes." 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Talboyes.  "Was  that 
his  lordship's  voice  I  heard  just  now,  when  the  door 
was  open,  saying  something  about  not  impeding  my 
movements?" 

"I  think,  sir,  that  his  lordship  was  referring,  jocu- 
lar, to  his  lordship's  trousers." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  wear  his  trousers,"  declared 
Talboyes  impatiently. 

"Oh,  he  don't  mind,  sir." 

"But  I  really  do  wish  to  stay  and  see  his  lord- 
ship, apart  from  his  trousers — I  mean " 

At  this  moment  a  young  man,  in  immaculate  even- 
ing dress,  came  dashing  out  of  the  dining-room  and 
confronted  the  wretched  Talboyes  with  a  broad  grin. 
Talboyes,  feeling  that  the  time  had  arrived  when  he 
must  summon  all  his  most  appealing  qualities  to 
the  test  of  making  a  clear  and  solicitous  statement 
of  his  misfortunes,  smiled  back  with  considerable 
effort. 

"Good  evening,"  said  the  young  man.  "Glad 
you've  turned  up." 

"Yes— er " 

"Somebody  suggested  that  you  probably  hadn't 
had  any  dinner." 

"It's  exceedingly  kind  of  your  lordship,  but " 

"His,  you  mean." 


84  THE  DIPPERS 

"His?" 

"His  lordship,"  explained  the  young  man.  "I'm 
not  his  lordship,  thank  the  Lord." 

He  laughed  gaily,  and  even  Wattle  indulged  in  a 
bland  smile. 

"Oh,"  cried  Talboyes,  greatly  agitated,  "you're 
not  his  lordship,  thank  the  Lord — his  lord — his  ship- 
load— lordship." 

"No,  I'm  only  his  nephew.     My  name's  Dollery." 

"I  wish,"  thought  Talboyes,  "that  he'd  tell  me 
what  his  lordship's  name  is." 

"We'll  send  some  grub  up  to  you,  if  you  like," 
continued  Peter.  "You  are  going  up  to  dress,  aren't 
you?  So  I  expect  that  will  be  the  best  arrangement." 

"I — I — I  haven't  got  any  dress  clothes,  you  know 
— and  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I " 

"Yes,  but  that's  all  right,"  said  Peter.  "Haven't 
you  heard?  The  old  sport  is  lending  you  some." 

Wattle  blushed. 

"Yes,  oh  yes,"  said  Talboyes.  "But  until  I've  seen 
the  old  sp — sportship,  lordsport " 

"I'm  sure,"  said  Peter  with  rather  a  mandatory 
air,  "that  you  want  to  do  all  you  can  to  please  my 
uncle  now  that  you  have  turned  up.  And  really  the 
best  way  to  go  about  it  will  be  for  you  to  go  up- 
stairs as  I  suggest  and  get  into  his  things  and  have 
some  food." 

"Of  course  I — I — I  am  only  too  anxious  to  please 


THE  DIPPERS  85, 

your  uncle  in  every  possible  way,"  replied  Talboyes, 
"and  I  am  also  quite  prepared,  in  fact,  extremely  de- 
lighted, to  get  into  his  food — I  mean " 

"That's  right,"  said  Peter.  "Wattle  will  show 
you  the  way  up." 

"Oh,  but  I  must  see  your  lordship — his — alone, 
because  he's  under  an  entirely  false  impression  about 
me,  and " 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Peter,  "quite  all  right. 
He  won't  mind  having  been  put  to  a  little  trouble  and 
anxiety.  But,  if  you  hope  to  get  on  the  right  side 
of  him  now,  I  really  advise  you  to  do  what  he  asks 
you  to.  So  trot  upstairs  and  get  on  with  the  job, 
there's  a  good  fellow."  He  turned  briskly  and 
opened  the  door  to  the  dining-room.  In  the  door- 
way he  halted  and  added:  "The  gentleman  will 
change  in  his  lordship's  room,  Wattle.  But  you'd 
better  take  his  food  to  his  own  room." 

"Oh,  well,"  reflected  Talboyes  to  himself,  as  this 
swift  youth  disappeared,  "I  may  as  well  feed  off 
these  people.  If  they  simply  refuse  to  let  me  explain 
what  has  happened,  that's  their  look-out.  Besides, 
I  shall  probably  feel  in  better  form  for  bearding  the 
old  lord  after  I've  got  some  dinner  inside  me."  Dur- 
ing which  soliloquy  he  mechanically  picked  up  his 
bag,  despite  the  efforts  of  Wattle  to  precede  him  in 
this  office,  and  began  to  mount  the  stairs,  following 
the  superintending  figure  of  the  butler. 


86  THE  DIPPERS 

"Now  this,"  said  the  latter,  halting  before  a  door 
on  the  first  floor  landing,  "is  his  lordship's  dressing- 
room.  I  will  come  back  here  and  see  what  I  can 
find  for  you  to  put  on.  But  first,  no  doubt,  you  would 
like  to  see  your  own  room  which  is  that  one  at  the 
end  of  the  passage.  The  lady  is  there." 

"The— the  lady?" 

"Yes,  your  lady,  sir." 

"Good  God,  but " 

Wattle  allowed  himself  a  playful  little  wag  of  the 
head. 

"Don't  you  worry,  sir,"  he  said  in  a  very  confi- 
dential manner.  "Nobody  can  help  missing  a  train, 
and  I'm  sure  the  lady  will  forget  she  was  ever  wor- 
ried about  you  now  she  sees  you've  arrived  safe  and 
sound." 

"I  bet  she  won't,"  murmured  the  luckless  Tal- 
boyes  in  an  undertone. 

Wattle  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Old  Bedroom. 
A  plaintive,  "Oh,  come  in,"  was  the  response.  Wat- 
tle came  in.  He  appreciated  the  opportunity  for 
performing  his  duty  in  accordance  with  the  best  tra- 
ditions of  the  old  and  pacifying  family  butler  of  the 
drama.  He  threw  open  the  door,  peered  for  a  mo- 
ment within,  announced  in  hollow,  supplicatory  tones, 
"Your  husband,  madam,"  turned,  inviting  Talboyes 
to  enter,  in  a  manner  so  encouraging  as  practically 
to  amount  to  pushing  him  into  the  room,  and  closing 


THE  DIPPERS  87 

the  door  behind  the  reclaimed  husband,  departed 
jubilantly  to  look  out  his  lordship's  second-best  dress 
clothes. 

The  dark,  sharp,  active  eyes,  which  met  his, 
would,  at  any  time,  have  flashed  a  quick  appeal  to  a 
man  so  vulnerable  as  Henry  Talboyes.  Now,  as  they 
grew  wide  in  astonishment  and  brighter  still  in  sud- 
den challenge,  he  stood  transfixed.  From  her  eyes 
his  attentive  glance  took  rapid  stock  of  all  the  allur- 
ing features  which  contributed  to  the  enchanting  ap- 
parition of  Pauline  Dipper,  as  she  half  raised  herself 
from  the  divan  upon  which  she  had  been  reclining 
and  faced  the  intruder  with  unguarded  defiance. 
She  was  small,  but  her  figure  was  exquisitely  mod- 
elled. Her  features  were  clear-cut  and  sensitive,  as 
becomes  the  brunette.  Her  hair  had  been  done  in 
Grecian  style,  and  a  band  of  silver  lay  across  her 
forehead.  In  other  respects  her  toilet  had  not  been 
fully  completed.  The  dress  in  which  she  was  to 
appear  at  the  dance  still  remained  in  its  coverlet  of 
tissue  paper  upon  the  bed.  A  pink  and  mauve  wrap- 
per of  crepe  de  Chine  hung  from  her  shoulders,  its 
abbreviated  sleeves  displaying  her  long,  white  arms 
to  full  advantage.  Nor  did  the  black  silk  petticoat 
extend  unduly,  and  it  was  possible  to  esteem  the 
shapely  outline  of  calf  and  instep,  compressed  in 
stockings  of  the  same  material.  From  the  shoes, 
tiny  shoes  of  black  brocade,  the  eyes  of  Talboyes 


88  THE  DIPPERS 

again  travelled  upwards  to  meet  hers,  and  read  his 
complete  subjugation  in  that  expression  of  withering 
inquisition. 

For  several  seconds  after  the  dramatic  entrance 
of  the  intruder  she  remained  silent,  modestly  test- 
ing the  security  of  the  clasp  which  held  the  wrapper 
at  her  breast.  Then,  in  a  dispassionate  but  querulous 
voice  she  said: 

"But — you're  not  my  husband." 

Talboyes  dropped  his  eyes  again  to  the  neat,  lis- 
som fingers  busy  with  the  clasp. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  replied. 

Pauline  Dipper  raised  herself  another  foot  on  the 
divan,  and  with  her  disengaged  hand  attempted  to 
make  her  silk  petticoat  appear  of  normal  length. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked.  "What's  all 
this?"  Her  frown  deepened  as  she  perceived  Henry 
Talboyes  watching  the  petticoat  manoeuvre  with  un- 
disguised curiosity.  "How  dare  you  come  here  and 
pretend  to  be  my  husband?" 

"I — I  didn't,"  said  Talboyes.  "Everybody  seems 
to  think  I'm  somebody  else  except  you.  You're  the 
only  person  who  knows  who  I  am." 

"But  I  haven't  the  faintest  notion  who  you  are." 

"I  mean — who  knows  who  I'm  not." 

"I  know  you're  not  my  husband,  anyway,"  said 
Pauline. 

"You're  the  only  person  who  does,"  repeated  Tal- 


THE  DIPPERS  89 

boyes  with  emphatic  haste.  "Everybody's  under  a 
delusion.  I  myself  didn't  know  till  a  moment  ago 
that  you  were  my  wife — I  mean  weren't.  I  didn't 
know  I  had  a  wife." 

"You  needn't  trouble  to  be  funny,"  said  Pauline 
sharply. 

"I  didn't  know  I  was  funny,"  said  Talboyes  hum- 
bly. 

"Well,  now  tell  me  something  you  do  know.  Why 
are  you  here  instead  of  my  husband?  Did  he  send 
you?" 

"I  don't  even  know  who  your  husband  is." 

"You  don't  know  an  awful  lot,  don't  you?" 

"Ye — no.  Oh,  please  don't  ask  such  intricate 
questions,"  appealed  Talboyes.  "I'll  explain  every- 
thing in  a  minute." 

"People  who  don't  know  anything  generally  try 
and  do  that,"  was  Pauline's  rather  nasal  com- 
ment. 

"Would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me  who  your 
husband  is?  I  feel  that  would  help,"  said  Talboyes. 

"Hank  P.  Dipper.  Why  are  you  putting  that  bag 
down  in  my  room?" 

"Hank?  Because,  if  you  don't  mind,  it's  so  heavy 
and  I've  had  a  most  dreadful  time  with  the  beastly 
thing  all  the  evening.  Hank?" 

"Yes,  Hank  P.  Dipper.  The  great  Hank  P.  Dip- 
per." 


90  THE  DIPPERS 

"The  great  one?" 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  more  than  one?" 

"No,  I  never  even — I  mean  the — the  great  one  is 
the — the  only — well,  the  only  one  I've  ever  heard 
of — that  is  to  say  I'm  not  quite  sure  that  I — of 
course  I'm  not  much  up  in  Society,  you  know,  and  I 
don't  know  that  I " 

"For  goodness'  sake,"  interrupted  Pauline,  "don't 
keep  on  saying  'I  don't  know.' ' 

"I  didn't  say  you  didn't  know,"  remonstrated  Tal- 
boyes.  "I'm  sure  you  can  throw  much  more  light 
upon  this  mistake  than  I  can.  If  you  wouldn't  mind 
telling  me  more  about  your  husband — — " 

"I  suppose,"  said  Pauline  with  a  sigh,  "  that  you 
have  heard  of  Hank  and  Pauline  Dipper?" 

"Oh,  Pauline?" 

"That's  me,  of  course." 

"Oh,  I  see.  Pauline,  that's  you.  Then  who's  Hip 
—Hanker?" 

"Hank?    Why,  my  husband." 

"Ah,"  said  Talboyes,  taking  a  step  towards  her 
and  raising  a  demonstrative  finger,  "Now,  I'm  get- 
ting at  it.  Then  I'm  Hank?" 

"You're  certainly  not,"  said  Pauline,  again  quickly 
on  the  defensive  with  her  petticoat. 

"No,  but  they  think  I  am." 

"Who  do?" 

"The  people  here,"  cried  Talboyes,  in  eager  ex- 


THE  DIPPERS  91 

planation.  "All  these  butlers  and  chauffeurs  and 
footmans — feetmen — foot " 

"Why  did  you  let  them?"  asked  Pauline  severely. 
"Did  you  want  them  to  believe  that  you  were  my 
husband?" 

"They  wanted  to,  themselves — I'm  very  sorry. 
You're  the  first  person  I've  met  who  seems  to  raise 
any  objection  to  my  being  your  husband.  I'm  very 
sorry." 

Pauline  Dipper  turned  her  head  and  gazed 
through  the  window  into  the  unknown  where  Hank 
yet  lingered. 

"So  am  I,"  she  said  bitterly,  "very  sorry.  I  wish 
you  were  my  husband." 

Talboyes  was  encouraged  by  this  admission  to 
seat  himself  near  the  divan  and  to  regard  Pauline 
with  an  air  of  confidential  speculation. 

"Really?"  he  said.  "I  say,  what  makes  you  wish 
that?" 

Pauline,  however,  returned  to  the  inquisition  with 
a  glare  of  small  encouragement. 

"You  needn't  think  I'm  satisfied  about  you  yet," 
she  remarked  sternly,  "because  I'm  not." 

"No,  no,"  returned  Talboyes  in  a  palliative  tone. 
"After  all,  you  have  only  known  me  for " 

"Look  here,"  she  interrupted,  "You  came  in 
here  and  they  thought  you  were  Hank — is  that 
it?" 


92  THE  DIPPERS 

Talboyes  assented. 

"Well,  why  didn't  you  say  straight  out,  Tm  not 
Hank'?" 

"But  how  could  I  say  straight  out,  'I'm  not  Hank,' 
when  I  don't  know  anything  about  Hank?"  argued 
Talboyes  wildly. 

"But  you  know  that  you're  not  Hank." 

"Oh,  hell — I  beg  your  pardon." 

"It's  no  use  begging  my  pardon.  I  want  to  know 
the  truth.  You  somehow  or  other  got  in  here.  They 
took  you  for  Hank.  Well,  why  didn't  you  put  them 
wise?" 

"Because  I  didn't  know  anything  about  you  and 
your  husband.  I  was  just  going  to  see  the  lordship — 
his." 

"The  lordship— his?" 

"Yes,  yes,  his  lordship — the  owner  of  this  place 
— the  old  man — your  host — the  old  lord — surely 

you » 

"Well?" 

"Then  I  was  going  to  tell  his  lordship  that, 
though  everybody  thought  I  was  your  husband,  I 
wasn't  really  your  husband  at  all,  but — • — " 

"How  could  you  tell  him  you  weren't  my  hus- 
band, when  you  say  you  didn't  know  anything  about 
my  husband?" 

Talboyes  leant  back  in  his  chair  and  wiped  his 
brow. 


THE  DIPPERS  93 

"I  know  there's  an  answer  to  that,"  he  groaned, 
"but  you've  muddled  me  so  much  that  I  can't  think 
for  the  moment  what  it  is." 

The  frowning  severity  in  her  eyes  was  softened  by 
a  passing  gleam  of  amusement,  as  they  studied  the 
expression  of  innocent,  struggling  perplexity  in  his 
round  red  face.  Pauline  knew  men  pretty  well  by 
this  time.  She  had  encountered  many  diversified  ex- 
amples of  the  species  in  a  brief  but  vagrant  expe- 
rience, and  how  few  of  them — how  few  even  of  the 
most  plausible  and  the  most  amiable — had  been  gen- 
uine and  disinterested?  But  as  she  scanned  Henry 
Talboyes  with  that  faint  cynical  smile  of  amusement, 
she  judged  him  rightly  to  be  an  exception  to  the 
usual  type  of  misunderstood,  propitiatory  gentleman, 
who  is  one  of  the  most  common  types  known  to  fair 
collectors.  There  was  something  undeniably  genuine 
in  his  nervous  inability  to  explain  his  false  position, 
and  his  rather  eccentric  vacuity  was  as  obviously  a 
true  part  of  his  nature  as  the  docility  and  kindness 
of  heart  which  Pauline  read  in  every  line  of  his  face. 
She  could  play  with  this  man  as  with  a  toy,  could 
command,  coerce,  bully  him  as  she  pleased.  She 
knew  the  way,  and,  after  all,  he  might  be  useful. 

"There's  something  very  fishy  about  you,"  she 
said. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  replied  Talboyes,  "I  remember 
now.  I  was  going  to  tell  the  old  lord  who  I  was, 


94  THE  DIPPERS 

and  to  ask  for  his  help  because  I'd  lost  the  last  train 
to  London." 

"But  why?" 

"Well,  if  you  must  know,  it  was  due  to  a  porter 
flying  a  kite  instead  of  attending  to  his  duty.  But 
I  shouldn't  worry  about  that,  because " 

"Flying  a  kite?  What  has  that  got  to  do  with 
my  husband?" 

"Nothing  at  all.  That's  what  I  say — if  you  start 
to  worry  about  the  kite  we  shall  only  get  more  in- 
volved than  we  are  at  present,  if  that's  possible. 
You  see,  the  chauffeur  was  at  the  station,  looking  for 
Hicks— Huck " 

"What  has  the  chauffeur  got  to  do  witK 
it?" 

"A  great  deal;  in  fact,  he's  really  at  the  bottom 
of  all  the  trouble." 

"I  thought  you  said  the  porter  was  at  the  bottom 
of  the  trouble." 

"Well,  the  porter  was  responsible  for  my  losing 
the  train,  but " 

"Then  why  blame  the  chauffeur?" 

"Because  the  chauffeur  was  the  man  who  brought 
me  here." 

"Oh,  are  you  sorry  you  came  here,  then?" 

"Well,  that's  not  a  very  fair  question." 

"If  you're  not  sorry,  you  can't  very  well  blame 
the  porter;  and,  if  you  are  sorry  you  came  here,  I 


THE  DIPPERS  95 

think  you  ought  not  to  have  let  the  chauffeur  bring 
you.  You  must  be  fair." 

"But  don't  you  see  the  chauffeur  saw  me  and 
thought  I  was  H — him." 

"Him?" 

"Your  husband.  And,  as  I  say,  not  knowing  your 
husband,  I  couldn't  undeceive  him." 

"But  surely  you  could  have  told  the  chauffeur  that 
you  weren't  coming  here  at  all." 

"I  did,  time  after  time,  but  the  fool  simply  re- 
fused to  let  me  go.  He  also  said  the  old  lord  would 
most  probably  lend  me  a  car  or  a  bed,  so  I  came. 
"Well,  directly  I  put  my  nose  inside  the  door,  old  but- 
lers and  nephews  and  people  kept  dashing  up  and 
thinking  me  Hank — is  that  his  name?  In  fact,  as 
I  say,  you  alone  know  that  I'm  not." 

Pauline  grew  suddenly  more  animated  as  the  true 
significance  of  the  situation  was  brought  home  to  her. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  all  those  people  down- 
stairs solemnly  believe  that  Mr.  Dipper  has  ar- 
rived?" 

"Yes,  the  butler  told  the  old  lord  so.  I  tried 
to  stop  him  but  couldn't.  The  butler  is  the  biggest 
fathead  I've  ever  encountered.  In  fact,  he's  really  at 
the  bot — well,  anyhow,  he's  responsible  for  a  great 
deal  of  all  this  muddle.  For  one  thing,  he  worried 
me  into  coming  up  here  to  put  on  the  old  lord's 
clothes." 


96  THE  DIPPERS 

"I  hope  you  don't  think  you're  going  to  start 
changing  your  clothes  in  this  room?"  said  Pauline. 

"No,  I'm  going  to  do  that  in  the  old  lord's  dress- 
ing-room; that  is,  I'm  not  going  to  do  it  anywhere, 
really.  But  it  was  no  use  my  trying  to  tell  the  butler 
that.  If  the  old  lord  turns  out  to  be  as  pig-headed 
as  his  servants  he'll  probably  refuse  to  see  me  until 
I've  dressed  up  in  his  things,  and  then  I  suppose 
he'll  want  to  know  what  the  dickens  I've  done  it 
for." 

"What  about  me?"  said  Pauline  in  an  injured  tone. 
"You  don't  seem  to  consider  my  feelings  very  much, 
I  must  say." 

"I  haven't  thought  of  anything  but  you  ever  since 
I've  been  in  this  room,"  he  assured  her  gravely.  "I 
don't  see  how  anybody  could." 

"Never  mind  what  you  think,"  said  Pauline. 
"What  about  me?"  She  turned  her  head,  rested  her 
chin  in  her  hand,  and  appeared  to  be  on  the  point 
of  bursting  into  tears.  "Oh,  it's  cruel — cruel,"  she 
whispered. 

Talboyes  leant  towards  her  in  pentinent  commis- 
eration, but  she  drew  back  from  him. 

"I  say,  I'm  really  very,  very  sorry,"  he  pleaded. 
"It  wasn't  meant  to  be  cruel — cruel." 

After  a  moment's  pause,  Pauline  proceeded  to 
state  her  mournful  case. 

"I  waited  so  long  for  Hank,  and  hoped — and  then 


THE  DIPPERS  92j 

at  last  I  hear  the  good  news  that  he  has  arrived. 
And,  instead  of  my  husband  dashing  into  the  room  as 
I  expected,  what  do  I  find?" 

"What?"  repeated  Talboyes  with  curiosity. 

"When  everything  depends  on  Hank  getting  here 

tonight "  she  turned  almost  fiercely  on  Talboyes, 

• — "look  what  arrives." 

Talboyes  jerked  his  chin  with  a  faint  suggestion 
of  forgotten  dignity. 

"Tastes  vary,  of  course,"  he  said.  "Still,  how- 
ever fine  a  specimen  Hank  may  be,  I  don't  think  you 
need  go  on  referring  to  me  as  'what'." 

"If  only  you  knew  what  trouble  and  anxiety  I  am 
in,"  continued  Pauline,  intertwining  her  fingers  ap^ 
prehensively,  "you  wouldn't  try  to  make  a  mock  of 
me." 

"I  swear  I'm  not  trying  to  make  a  mock.  I  can't 
bear  to  see  you  so  distressed.  If  I'd  known  you 
were  really  likely  to  take  it  so  much  to  heart  I  would 
have  resisted  that  old  fool  of  a  butler  by  brute 
force." 

"It  might  not  have  been  quite  so  bad  if  the  man 
who  came  instead  of  Hank  had  been  bright  and 
amusing  and  had  made  some  suggestions  to  me,"  said 
Pauline  with  a  kindling  eye. 

"Made  some  suggestions  to  you?"  echoed  Tal- 
boyes incredulously. 

"Yes.     Here  am  I  without  my  husband.     I  am 


98  THE  DIPPERS 

sure,  to  judge  by  your  manner,  that  you  know  more 
than  you  pretend  to.  Don't  you  now?" 

Talboyes  smiled  self-consciously. 

"Well,  really,"  he  said,  "I  think  I  know  what  you 
mean,  but  it's  hardly  a  subject  I  am  accustomed  or 
desire  to " 

"Don't  consider  my  feelings,"  interrupted  Pauline 
keenly.  "I  am  absolutely  without  trace  of  my  hus- 
band, and  I  want  to  know  everything  you  know. 
You  say  you  want  to  be  kind  to  me,  here's  your 
chance." 

"Certainly,  within  limits,"  said  Talboyes. 

His  stubborn  manner  only  served  further  to  in- 
fluence Pauline's  sudden  conviction  that  he  could  im- 
part news — possibly  bad  news — of  the  husband  upon 
whom  all  her  thoughts  were  centred.  She  became 
almost  wheedling  in  her  anxiety  to  test  this  theory. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "I  know  there  is  sympathy  behind 
those  kind  eyes  of  yours." 

"Yes,  there  is,"  replied  Talboyes  more  warmly. 

"Yes.  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  what  you  tell  me. 
I  have  an  idea  that  you  are  preparing  to  tell  me  some- 
thing shocking." 

"I  say,  really.     I— I " 

"Don't  trouble  to  be  soft  with  me." 

"I'm  not  soft  at  all,"  said  Talboyes  in  expostula- 
tion. 

"Yes,  yes,  you  are,"  said  Pauline  feelingly.    "But, 


THE  DIPPERS  99 

if  you  are  really  sorry  for  me,  do  what  I  ask.  If 
you  have  heard  anything  dreadful  this  evening,  tell 
it  to  me.  I  am  sure  you  are  anxious  to  make  things 
as  pleasant  for  me  as  possible,  but  please  don't  let's 
have  any  more  of  your  silly  stories.  Tell  me  the 
worst  you  know." 

"Really,"  murmured  Talboyes,  in  great  discom- 
fiture, "I'm  prepared  to  do  almost  anything  for 
beauty  in  distress,  but — is  this  the  only  way  you  have 
of  getting  cheered  up?" 

"I  don't  want  to  be  cheered  up.  Do  you  or  do 
you  not  know  where  my  husband  is?" 

"Your  husband?  No,  I  haven't  the  slightest 
idea." 

"Have  you  or  have  you  not  heard  of  anything 
that  has  happened  to  him?" 

"I  haven't  indeed." 

Pauline,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  relapsed  again  on  to 
the  divan. 

"Well,  then,"  she  cried,  "can't  you  see  that  I'm 
down  on  my  luck?  For  goodness'  sake  do  what  you 
can  to  assist  me.  Don't  be  so  restrained.  I  want 
you  to  take  me  into  your  confidence.  I  must  have 
somebody  to  fall  back  upon.  Be  a  little  brighter, 
do.  Make  suggestions  to  me." 

Talboyes,  who  was  endeavouring  to  recollect  some 
of  the  least  objectionable  of  his  limited  stock  of 
risque  stories,  gained  time  by  remarking  that  she  was 


ioo  THE  DIPPERS 

an  extraordinary  woman  and  that  he  did  not  feel 
any  justification  for  encouraging  her  abnormal  pro- 
pensities. At  which  he  detected  the  sound  of  a  sob 
from  her  averted  face. 

"I  simply  don't  know  what  to  say,"  he  confessed, 
scratching  his  head.  "It's  really  awfully  embarrass- 
ing to  me — this  sort  of  thing.  Still,  I  suppose  you 
must  be  a  woman  of  the  world,  or  you  wouldn't  give 
such  bold  expression  to  your  rather  extraordinary 
whims.  I  expect  you  know  that  one  about  'There 
was  a  young  woman  of  Barking'  ?" 

Pauline  raised  her  head  and  glared  in  astonish- 
ment 

"What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about?"  she  ex- 
claimed. "If  you  can't  behave  like  a  gentleman — " 

"You  particularly  asked  me  not  to  behave  like  a 
gentleman.  I " 

"Do  you,  for  the  last  time,  know  anything  about 
my  husband?" 

"No,  I  do  not,  and  I'm  only  too  pleased  to  hear 
that  it's  for  the  last  time." 

"Then  kindly  get  out." 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Talboyes.  "We  may  have 
misunderstood  each  other,  and  here  comes  my  din- 
ner." 

Sure  enough,  Wattle,  on  being  bidden  to  enter, 
heralded  the  approach  of  Francis,  who  bore  along 
a  miniature  of  the  tea-stand.  As  he  wheeled  this  into 


THE  DIPPERS  101 

the  room,  Wattle  stood  and  surveyed  the  reconciled 
Dippers  with  gratified  eyes. 

"The  clothes  are  all  ready  in  his  lordship's  room, 
sir,"  he  announced,  "but  no  doubt  you  will  prefer  to 
take  your  dinner  first,  while  'ot." 

"Er — yes,  I  should  like  my  dinner  while  hot," 
replied  Talboyes,  with  a  stealthy  side-glance  at  Mrs. 
Dipper. 

Wattle  bowed. 

"Should  you  fail  to  find  anything  you  require  when 
you  come  to  dress,  sir,  will  you  kindly  either  ring 
or  phone?"  he  requested  as  he  left. 

Francis,  however,  remained  rigidly  at  attention, 
until  Talboyes  turned  open-mouthed  in  his  direction, 
when  he  asked : 

"What  will  you  take  with  it,  sir?     Champagne?" 

"Yes,  oh  yes,  I  can  do  with  some  champagne,"  re- 
plied Talboyes. 

When  the  footman  had  retired,  Talboyes  turned 
with  an  apology  to  Pauline  and  inquired  whether 
she  had  any  objection  to  his  feeding  before  getting 
out,  as  he  was  in  a  state  of  ravenous  hunger  and 
the  chance  seemed  too  good  to  miss.  She  replied 
with  a  shrug  and  a  shake  of  the  head,  and  Talboyes 
settled  to  his  meal  with  that  sharp  intake  of  the 
breath  which  characterizes  the  hungry  man  inspecting 
an  ample  board. 


CHAPTER  V 

AFTER  a  few  moments  Henry  Talboyes  raised 
his    eyes    from   his    plate    to   the    ceiling,    as 
though   returning  thanks  to  the  mature  god- 
dess and  her  attendant  cherubim  who  were  disporting 
upon  that  surface.    Then  he  again  turned  to  Pauline. 

"You  said  something  just  now  about  how  you 
wished  me  to  be  brighter  and  to  assist  you  in  falling 
back  upon  me.  I  didn't  quite  grasp  your  meaning 
at  the  time,  but  I'm  beginning  to  feel  better  now,  and 
I  hope  I  may  be  allowed  to  try  again;  so  please  tell 
me  exactly  what  the  trouble  is.  I  say,  please  do.  I 
can't  bear  to  see  you  distressed." 

"I  shall  go  on  being  distressed,"  replied  Pauline 
in  a  sulky  tone,  "until  I  have  news  of  Hank." 

She  rose  as  she  spoke,  and  sweeping  across  to 
the  window  drew  aside  the  lace  curtain,  and  scanned 
the  view  of  drive  and  terrace  for  any  signs  of  the 
absentee.  Talboyes  glanced  at  her  neat  figure  from 
his  seat  at  the  writing-table,  which  Francis  had 
spread  for  the  repast,  and  again  settled  himself  to 
the  enjoyment  of  that  welcome  booty. 

102 


THE  DIPPERS  T03 

"Hank's  all  right,"  he  said.  "I'm  sure  he  is. 
Don't  you  worry.  All  I've  told  you  is  perfectly 
true.  I'm  here,  and  they  think  I'm  Hank.  This 
soup  is  awfully  good." 

"It  sounds  good,"  said  Pauline  critically. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Talboyes  good-humouredly,  "I'm 
getting  on  splendidly.  My  only  regret  is  that  you 
are  unhappy." 

Pauline  returned  from  the  window  and  stood  near 
him,  her  pretty  fingers  drumming  on  the  edge  of  his 
table. 

"You'd  be  unhappy,"  she  said,  "if  you  were  faced 
with  disaster  like  I  am." 

"Disaster,  no!"  replied  Talboyes  cheerfully. 
"Hank  has  simply  lost  his  way.  You'll  find  him 
again." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Unless  I  find  him  now,  I'm  done  for,  don't  you 
see?" 

Talboyes  looked  up  at  her  gravely,  his  brimming 
spoon  poised  dangerously  in  mid-air. 

"I  can  only  suppose  that  you  say  that,  because 
you're  such  an  extraordinary  affectionate  wife,"  he 
said.  "In  your  eyes,  any  man  but  Hank  is  a  mere 
'what.'  " 

"Well,  I  hope  so,"  she  replied.  "But  it's  not 
my  love  I'm  thinking  of  at  the  moment;  it's  my 
pocket." 


io4  THE  DIPPERS 

"Your  wocket — pot  it — what?"  cried  Talboyes, 
spilling  soup. 

"My  pocket,"  repeated  Pauline,  who  was  grow- 
ing more  friendly  by  rapid  stages,  and  now  seated 
herself  close  beside  him.  "Don't  you  understand 
that  we  are  paid  to  come  here?" 

"Who  are?" 

"Why,  Hank  and  me.  If  Hank  doesn't  show  up 
we  shall  lose  our  fee,  and  I  want  it.  I  want  it 
badly.  In  fact,  I  promised  things  to  my  costumier 
to-morrow  on  the  strength  of  it." 

This  revelation  entirely  baffled  Henry  Talboyes, 
who  was  not  at  the  best  of  times  a  man  of  brilliantly 
intuitive  nature.  He  could  only  surmise  vaguely  that 
these  Dippers  were  persons  of  the  highest  fashion, 
who  would  only  consent  to  descend  and  illumine  a 
dull  country  house-party  for  a  substantial  secret  con- 
sideration. The  old  lord  who  had  contrived  the 
household  improvements  and  decorations,  which  Tal- 
boyes had  noted  with  awestruck  repugnance  at  every 
turn,  would  be  just  such  a  one  as  to  seek  this  means 
of  infusing  a  dour  country  gathering  with  a  touch 
of  town  colour.  Moreover,  Talboyes  seemed  to  rec- 
ollect having  read,  in  one  of  the  gossipy  weekly 
papers,  of  a  recent  date,  of  such  a  practice  being 
prevalent.  At  the  same  time,  he  was  puzzled.  Mrs. 
Dipper,  though  certainly  a  smart,  almost,  he  thought, 
a  flashy  little  woman,  betrayed  in  her  voice,  and  less 


THE  DIPPERS  105 

definitely  in  her  whole  personality,  those  slight  but 
damning  deficiencies  which  must  surely  impair  her 
efforts  to  patronize  the  ladies  of  the  house-party. 
-  Besides,  why  the  dickens  should  she  be  dining  alone 
in  her  room  ?  That  seemed  a  glaring  breach  of  con- 
tract. Talboyes  murmured  "Come  in,"  in  a  tone  of 
perplexed  invocation,  as  though  Francis  were  the 
God  of  Reason  and  the  champagne  he  brought  some 
mystic  potion  of  Enlightenment. 

Francis  delivered  his  potion  and  slid  noiselessly 
away.  Talboyes  partook  heartily.  He  approved  the 
brand.  That  such  a  wine  should  be  served  up  with- 
out question  or  restraint  only  increased  his  wonder. 
He  turned  to  Pauline  with  a  rather  more  arbitrary 
air.  He  meant  to  find  out  all  about  this.  Hang 
it  all,  he  had  a  right  to.  He  was  Hank 
Dipper. 

"And  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  one  can  get  paid 
for  coming  here  and  doing  this?"  he  asked,  indicat- 
ing the  champagne. 

"Of  course.     What  do  you  think?" 

"Well,  I  thought  I  knew  a  thing  or  two,"  he  said, 
with  a 

"But  now,"  said  Pauline,  "I  shall  forfeit  my  fee 
and  my  expenses  and  everything,  just  because  Hank 
hasn't  found  his  way." 

"Yes,  I'm  beginning  to  think  less  of  Hank's 
acumen  than  I  did,"  agreed  Talboyes  with  a  nod. 


io6  THE  DIPPERS 

"Tell  me,  when  you  speak  of  your  fee,  I — I  suppose 
you — er — you  charge  for — for  coming  and — well, 
sort  of  helping  the  old  lord  out  with  his  party,  enter- 
taining them  and — well,  being  a  sort  of  extra  attrac- 
tion, as  it  were,  and  showing  'em  how  the  thing  is 
done  by  the  best  people?" 

"That's  it  exactly,"  said  Pauline.  "But  you  don't 
suppose  that  we  do  it  for  nothing?" 

"No,  I  don't  suppose  it  would  be  worth  your 
while." 

"Worth  our  while?    I  should  think  not " 

"No,  no,  of  course  not,  of  course  not,"  said  Tal- 
boyes  quickly.  "I  have  heard  of  people  in  the  coun- 
try having  down  celebrities  of — of  your  sort  from 
London,"  he  added  carelessly,  "but  I  suppose  it's  not 
very  much  done?" 

"No,  not  very  much,"  she  replied.  "Occasionally, 
of  course,  one  gets  an  offer  from  a  house  of  this 
sort." 

"From  a  house  of  this  sort,  exactly,"  said  Tal- 
boyes,  viewing  the  pretentious  upholstery  of  the  room 
with  a  critical  sniff. 

"But  this  will  be  an  awful  blow  for  our  reputa- 
tion," said  Pauline.  "We  shall  never  get  taken  on 
anywhere  else  after  this." 

"Oh,  but  surely  Society  is  not  so  strict  as  all 
that?" 

"It  is,  in  our  crowd." 


THE  DIPPERS  107 

"You  surprise  me  intensely,"  said  Talboyes.  "But 
I  suppose  it  depends  a  good  deal  on  what  Hank  is 
doing.  And,  even  if  this  does  result  in  his  getting 
the  reputation  of  being  a  bit  of  a  lad,  I  should  think 
that  will  be  advantageous  to  you  rather  than  other- 
wise. Old  ladies  in  the  country  may  shake  their 
heads  over  him,  but  they  won't  lose  a  chance  of  dining 
with  him.  By  the  way,  don't  you  as  a  rule  dine  with 
the  other  people?" 

"No,  not  as  a  rule,"  replied  Pauline. 

"I'm  surprised  at  that,  too.  I  should  have  thought 
that  was  about  the  first  thing  you'd  be  called  upon  to 
do." 

"Why?  Do  you  think  we  should  be  expected  to 
dance  on  the  table?" 

"No,  but  without  resorting  to  extremes,  you  might 
serve  to  brighten  up  what  is  sure  to  be  a  pretty  dull 
affair." 

"In  any  case,"  said  Pauline,  "you  needn't  imply 
that  Hank  is  getting  into  any  mischief,  because  I'm 
sure  he's  not.'' 

"I  daresay  not,"  replied  Talboyes.  "But  he  must 
have  some  fairly  powerful  inducement  to  keep  him 
away  from  a  job  like  this."  He  tasted  his  cham- 
pagne as  he  spoke. 

"He's  lost  his  way,  that's  all,"  said  Pauline,  "but 
it's  a  crying  shame,  when  I  want  that  money  so 
badly."  " 


io8  THE  DIPPERS 

"But,  surely  to  goodness,  you'll  get  your  share  of 
the  money?"  said  Talboyes. 

Pauline  shook  her  head. 

"Unless  he  turns  up,  I  shan't  appear  at  all,"  she 
said.  "I  can't  do  anything  on  my  own,  without 
him." 

Talboyes  knit  his  brows. 

"Does  he  exercise  some  weird  influence  over  you, 
or  something?"  he  asked. 

"Don't  be  so  silly,"  said  Pauline,  turning  from 
the  table  with  a  little  shake  of  the  shoulders.  "How 
could  I  carry  on  alone?  I  shouldn't  have  the  face 
to  try." 

"Everything  you  tell  me  surprises  me  more  than 
the  last,"  said  Talboyes.  Then  seeing  her  attitude 
of  depression,  he  added.  "I  say,  try  a  drop  of  this. 
It's  wonderful  stuff.  It  has  made  me  feel  a  different 
man  already." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Pauline,  taking  a  good  sip  of 
the  champagne. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Talboyes,  watching  her  with 
solicitude. 

"That's  better,"  he  proceeded,  as  she  returned  the 
glass  with  a  smile  of  gratitude.  "Don't  you  worry, 
now.  Hank  will  be  able  to  explain  quite  nicely  next 
time  he  sees  the  old  lord." 

"But  he  doesn't  know  him,"  said  Pauline.  "That's 
just  the  worst  of  it.  If  we  were  former  acquaint- 


THE  DIPPERS  109 

ances  of  the  old  lord's  we  might  be  able  to  wangle 
something." 

"Good  Lord !"  said  Talboyes,  thoughtfully.  "Yes, 
now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  that  chauffeur  said  some- 
thing about  my  being  a  total  stranger." 

"I'm  not  talking  about  you,  I'm  talking  about 
Hank,"  said  Pauline. 

"So  am  I.  To  the  chauffeur  I  am  Hank.  To 
everybody  here  I  am  Hank.  The  consideration  of 
your  particular  trouble  had  quite  driven  the  thought 
from  my  head." 

"Oh,  you  can  explain  and  put  things  right  for  your- 
self," said  Pauline,  "but  I  can't.  If  only  I  had  a 
friend  to  stand  by  me !" 

Her  voice  broke  and  she  relapsed  once  more  upon 
the  divan,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"I  haven't  a  friend  in  the  place — besides  all  the 
anxiety,"  came  in  broken  accents.  "If  I  knew  any- 
body here  it  might  be  easier." 

Talboyes  was  already  standing  beside  her,  with 
one  hand  holding  the  glass  of  champagne  and  the 
other  stretched  out  tentatively  towards  the  beautiful, 
drooping  neck  of  the  weeping  lady. 

"Easier?"  he  cried.  "No,  by  George.  Wait  a. 
moment.  Oh,  please  don't  cry." 

"I  can't  help  it — I'm  done  for." 

"Done  for?  I  don't  follow  you.  Do  you  really 
mean  to  say  that  the  old  lord  won't  stump  up  this 


I io  THE  DIPPERS 

fee  you  speak  of  unless  your  husband  is  here  witK 
you?" 

"Of  course  he  won't." 

"The  old  lord  doesn't  seem  to  be  taking  any  risks," 
said  Talboyes. 

"Is  that  what  you  call  being  kind?" 

Talboyes  bent  further  over  her.  His  hand  was 
laid  gently  on  her  shoulder. 

"If  you  will  only  stop  crying,"  he  said,  "I'll  be 
so  kind  to  you  that  you  won't  miss  Hank  a  scrap." 

Pauline  slowly  raised  her  eyes.  They  were  re- 
markably dry  for  the  eyes  of  a  lady  in  such  affliction. 

"I  say,"  she  whispered,  as  though  possessed  by  a 
sudden  inspiration,  "isn't  it  a  pity  that  you're  not 
qualified  to  take  Hank's  place?" 

Talboyes  drew  back,  more  piqued  than  scandalized 
by  the  suggestion. 

"But — but  I — I  consider  I  am  qualified,  if  it  comes 
to  that,"  he  said. 

"You're  not  a — an  expert,  are  you?"  inquired 
Pauline,  with  greatly  animated  interest. 

"Depends  what  you  call  an  expert,"  replied  Tal- 
boyes rather  stiffly.  "I've — er — I've  been  accus- 
tomed to  move  in  quite  decent  society,  and  I  think 
I  can  do  pretty  well  all  that  is  required  of  me." 

"Can  you  honestly?"  She  reflected  with  bright 
eyes.  "All  these  people  here  think  you're  Hank," 
she  said  wistfully.  "Really  it  seems  almost  a  pity 


THE  DIPPERS  in 

that  they  shouldn't  go  on  thinking  it.  Do  you  think 
you  could  go  on  being  Hank,  just  for  the  time  be- 
ing?" 

Talboyes  massaged  his  lower  jaw  and  reviewed 
her  entreating  countenance  with  great  indecision. 

"If  you're  really  some  good,  I  can  pull  you 
through,"  pursued  Pauline. 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  replied  Talboyes.  "It  isn't  that 
part  I'm  nervous  about.  But  it  would  mean  embark- 
ing upon  a  gross  deception  and " 

"Oh,  go  on,"  said  Pauline.  "Have  another  drop 
of  that  champagne.  It  will  only  be  a  bit  of  fun, 
and  even  when  they  find  out  it  will  only  show  that  I 
did  my  best." 

"M'yes,"  said  Talboyes.  "On  the  other  hand,  it 
may  land  us  both  in  great  difficulties.  Some  one 
here  may  have  seen  Hank,  even  if  they  don't  know 
him." 

"Very  unlikely.  Besides,  if  necessary  I  could  al- 
ways say  that  I  asked  you  to  take  his  place  as  an 
understudy,  as  it  were,  knowing  what  a  disappoint- 
ment it  would  be  to  every  one." 

"I  don't  think  you  need  put  it  quite  like  that," 
said  Talboyes.  "As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't  think 
I  shall  be  a  disappointment  to  anybody." 

"You're  not  a  professional  yourself,  are  you?"  she 
asked. 

"Well,  no,  I  can't  say  that  I've  ever  actually  been 


ii2  THE  DIPPERS 

paid  to  go  to  any  of  these  places,"  replied  Talboyes 
meditatively. 

"Anyhow,  you  think  you're  pretty  advanced?" 

"I  hope  so;  but,  as  I  say,  the  point  is  that  this  is 
going  to  be  a  criminal  undertaking  and  I  really  think 
it  would  be  better " 

"So  you  would  prefer  me  to  lose  my  fee?" 

"No,  dash  it,  that's  awfully  unkind  of  you.  How 
long  are  you  here  for?"  said  Talboyes,  weakening. 

"Just  the  one  night,  of  course." 

"Why  'of  course,'?  How  was  I  to  know?  No, 
please  don't  start  to  weep  again " 

"I  expect  it's  for  the  best,"  sobbed  Pauline. 
"You'd  only  go  and  give  me  away  if  we  tried  it 


on." 


"I  certainly  shouldn't  do  that,"  replied  Talboyes 
with  dignity.  "In  fact,  I  don't  mind  betting  that  I'm 
quite  Hank's  equal,  whoever  he  may  be." 

"They  wouldn't  think  it  was  Hank,  when  they 
saw  you,"  said  Pauline. 

"But  they  think  so  now,"  cried  Talboyes,  becom- 
ing quite  heated  and  confused  in  his  efforts  to  avoid 
being  Hank,  while  boasting  all  that  gentleman's  qual- 
ities. 

"Who  think  so?" 

"I  tell  you,  I've  already  imposed  on  them  without 
wanting  to;  in  fact,  without  intending  to." 

"Imposed  on  who?" 


THE  DIPPERS  113 

"Why  all  these  showmen  and  footlers — shoot — 
bow — butlers  and  people.  Everybody  thinks  I'm 
Hank.  The  point  is " 

''The  point  is,"  interrupted  Pauline,  "that  though 
you  have  deceived  them  all  once,  you  want  to  throw 
your  hand  in  rather  than  help  me." 

"Oh,  don't  weep,"  repeated  Talboyes  desperately. 
"Have  a  drop  more  of  this." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Pauline,  taking  the  glass. 

"Don't  mention  it,"  said  Talboyes. 

She  took  all  that  remained,  then  looked  up  again 
into  his  face  with  an  alluring  smile. 

"Let's  risk  it,"  she  said. 

Talboyes  met  her  eyes,  took  a  deep  breath  and 
nodded  very  unwillingly.  Pauline  was  on  her  feet  in 
a  second,  an  alert  figure  of  vigorous  mischief. 

"You're  a  sport,"  she  said.  "It  will  be  a  bit  of 
fun,  you  know,  and  it  may  come  off  well.  If  it  comes 
off  really  well,  no  one  will  mind  when  we  tell  them 
that  you're  not  Hank.  But  of  course  nobody  must 
be  told  until  right  at  the  end  of  the  evening,  and 
only  then  if  we've  made  a  hit.  I'm  relying  entirely 
on  what  you  say  about  yourself.  You  really  can 
carry  it  off?" 

"With  all  modesty,  I  fail  to  see  why  not,"  replied 
Talboyes.  "I  shouldn't  worry  in  the  least  if  I  felt 
as  happy  about  the  moral  side  of  the  impersonation 
as  I  do  about  the — the  physical." 


ii4  THE  DIPPERS 

"Well,"  said  Pauline,  taking  him  by  the  shoulders 
and  turning  him  towards  the  door,  "the  first  thing 
is  for  you  to  go  and  put  on  those  borrowed  dress 
clothes.  Then  come  straight  back  here  to  me,  and 
we  will  put  in  a  little  practice  before  we  go  down. 
Now,  don't  go  and  get  cold  feet  again  while  you're 
dressing." 

Talboyes  found  himself  being  led  to  his  fate  by 
those  gentle  but  compelling  hands.  He  still  attempt- 
ed vainly  to  protest.  He  raised  one  of  his  own  hands 
in  remonstrance  to  hers  upon  his  shoulder.  It  re- 
ceived a  little  squeeze  of  gratitude  and  encourage- 
ment from  her  strong  fingers  and  he  felt  all  the 
resistance  knocked  out  of  him.  She  "Mas  a  fascinat- 
ing little  woman,  he  thought.  Why  should  he  re- 
fuse her  what  she  described  as  a  bit  of  fun?  Why 
should  he  refuse  himself  the  unusual  stimulation  of 
an  experience  full  of  the  most  piquant  possibilities? 
In  any  case  she  had  wept  and  he  had  made  his  vow, 
and  the  only  course  was  to  play  his  part  in  a  man- 
ner which  should  command  the  admiration  of  the  bet- 
ter half  of  the  Dipper  partnership.  He  still  felt 
some  doubt  as  to  the  rather  mysterious  functions 
which  he  had  to  perform.  In  this  connection  he 
managed  to  put  a  further  question,  as  he  allowed 
himself  to  be  conveyed  across  the  room. 

"Practice?  How  do  you  mean  exactly  practice?" 
he  asked.  "Do  you  mean  that  we  shall — go  on  in  here 


THE  DIPPERS  115 

as  if  we  were  downstairs,  and  pretend  that  the  other 
people  are  looking  on?" 

"Yes,  of  course.  What  do  you  suppose  I  mean 
by  practice?  Rehearse,  if  you  prefer  to  call  it  that. 
I'll  show  you  some  of  my  latest  stunts." 

"What  sort  of  stunts?"  inquired  Talboyes,  with 
amused  curiosity,  as  he  paused  in  the  doorway. 

"Oh,  I've  got  a  new  and  very  fetching  sort  of 
hesitation  that  I'll  show  you  how  I  do,  and  one  or 
two  other  rather  neat  things,"  said  Pauline.  "One 
of  them  is  a  very  natty  step,  with  one's  middle  well 
pushed  out  in  front.  You  know.  Quite  the  latest." 

"By  George!"  said  Talboyes,  approvingly.  "You 
certainly  do  the  thing  thoroughly." 

"Well,  one  must,"  she  replied.  "I  shouldn't  get 
these  engagements  unless  I  kept  right  up  to  the  times." 

"N — o,  I  see.  Is  that  it?"  said  Talboyes,  nod- 
ding to  his  own  thoughts.  "But  will  anything  very 
— very  novel  be  required  of  mel" 

"If  you're  as  good  as  you  say  you  are,  you'll  be 
able  to  pick  it  up  quite  easily,"  she  replied. 

Talboyes  hesitated. 

"It  all  depends  on  what  you  mean  by  good,"  he 
said.  "I  suppose  that,  with  a  little  effort,  I  can  make 
people  think  that  I'm  accustomed  to  appearing  in  the 
very  best  circles." 

"That's  exactly  what's  wanted,"  said  Pauline  en- 
couragingly. She  was  already  closing  the  door  upon 


n6  THE  DIPPERS 

him,  and  only  her  face,  with  an  eager,  seductive 
smile,  remained  within  his  vision.  "Don't  waste  time 
now,"  she  added.  "And  mind  you  come  straight 
back  here."  The  door  was  closely  silently,  but  re- 
opened again.  "And  mind  you  don't  get  talking  to 
anybody  if  you  can  help  it,  until  we've  completed  our 
plans.  It  might  be  dangerous,  because  I  don't  think 
you  always  say  quite  what  you  mean."  Again  the 
door  closed,  and  again  opened.  Pauline's  eyebrows 
were  raised  and  she  jerked  her  chin  as  though  re- 
calling her  victim  for  further  confidential  instruc- 
tions. Talboyes  stooped  and  placed  his  ear  on  a 
level  with  the  pretty,  sensitive  lips.  "Don't  be  long 
away  from  me,  will  you?"  she  whispered.  "And,  I 
say — I  think  you  are  a  dear." 

Talboyes  walked  slowly  down  the  passage.  He 
fought  down  the  protesting  conscience  which  told 
him  that  he  had  consented  to  become  a  party  to  an 
action  of  the  most  deceitful  and  caddish  nature,  just 
because  he  lacked  the  strength  of  will  to  resist  a 
woman's  wiles.  He  tried  to  persuade  himself  that 
chivalry  demanded  this  undertaking.  He  was  merely 
indulging  in  a  bit  of  fun  after  all.  And  she  was  a 
jolly,  attractive  little  woman.  She  thought  him  a 
dear.  What  could  any  man  do  but  make  some  effort 
on  behalf  of  so  compassionable  an  object?  "Fool!" 
said  his  conscience.  "A  woman  who  openly  boasts 
of  carrying  social  artificiality  to  the  point  of  culti- 


THE  DIPPERS  117 

vating  an  enticing  hesitation  of  manner,  a  woman 
who  trains  herself  to  walk  in  public  with  her  middle 
well  pushed  out  in  order  to  observe  the  latest  fash- 
ionable extravagance  of  equipoise.  Fool !" 

Talboyes  wandered  far  beyond  his  lordship's  dress- 
ing-room in  the  course  of  these  deliberations;  and,  in- 
deed, only  pulled  himself  together  on  finding  himself 
half-way  downstairs. 

It  is  no  easy  matter  to  wander  unobserved  in  such 
a  house,  where,  in  the  first-floor  shadows,  lurk  at  all 
hours  the  forms  of  female  servants.  Talboyes' 
movements  were  watched  with  great  interest;  though 
it  was,  perhaps,  the  actual  personality  of  the  belated 
entertainer  rather  than  his  procedure  that  excited  his 
observer's  attention.  It  was  not  the  furtive  manner 
in  which  he  halted  on  the  staircase,  retraced  his 
steps,  and,  after  testing  Lord  Mellingham's  door  as 
though  he  expected  to  be  pounced  upon  from  within, 
crept  into  that  apartment,  which  brought  Minnie 
open-mouthed  from  Mrs.  Tavistock's  room.  It  was 
the  fact  that  the  dancing  gentleman,  who  had  come 
late  and  had  just  emerged  from  a  stormy  interview 
with  his  wife,  was  no  less  a  person  than  Mr.  Henry 
Talboyes.  For  Minnie,  who  had  stopped  gaps  all 
over  the  countryside  in  her  time,  had  on  more  than 
one  occasion  performed  that  office  in  the  establish- 
ment of  Miss  Starchfield  of  Coombe  Puddy. 


n8  THE  DIPPERS 

The  broad  folding  doors  which  connected  the  din- 
ing-room with  the  inner  hall  slid  open — for  in  ad- 
dition to  the  ordinary  hinges  they  had  been  fitted 
with  a  device  similar  to  that  used  on  tube  trains, 
which  contrived  their  automatic  disappearance  later- 
ally into  recesses — and  through  the  aperture  poured 
the  gay  throng,  jubilant  now  with  unrestrained  hilar- 
ity and  unnecessary  conversation.  Their  former 
despondency  had  evaporated  under  the  influence  of 
the  banquet,  to  which  the  timely  announcement  of 
Hank's  arrival  had  added  a  welcome  fillip.  The 
County  ladies,  who  at  the  commencement  of  the 
evening  had  freely  engaged  in  confidential  depreca- 
tion of  his  lordship's  town  acquaintances  and  who 
would,  no  doubt,  repeat  on  the  morrow  their  opinion 
that  it  was  a  great  pity  that  Lord  Mellingham 
thought  fit  to  invite  those  awful,  munitioneery,  profi- 
teery  people  from  London,  were  nevertheless  dis- 
playing the  most  generous  affability  towards  these  un- 
desirables for  the  time  being.  As  the  guests,  male 
and  female,  left  the  dining-room  en  masse  to  enjoy 
a  cigarette  on  the  terrace  before  engaging  in  the 
whirl  of  the  dance,  the  Babel  of  falsetto  chatter  and 
the  fusion  of  brilliant  colouring  were  calculated  to 
bring  a  novel  thrill  of  wonder  and  delight  to  the 
most  blase  County  daughter  of  the  most  hardened 
County  dowager. 

The  guests  were  numerous  and  costly.  The  County 


THE  DIPPERS  119 

representatives,  if  ineligible  for  inclusion  in  Minnie's 
category,  included  some  of  the  richest,  the  most  ani- 
mated and  the  most  critical  personages  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood. Lady  Pharo,  of  Deepcombe  Magna,  was 
in  puce  with  a  diamond  star  and  drop-earrings  which 
would  have  incurred  the  jealousy  of  the  Queen  of 
Sheba.  She  waggled  them  in  conversational  exhilara- 
tion into  the  appreciative  face  of  Mr.  Harris,  as  she 
sought  the  terrace.  Her  husband,  Sir  Enoch  Pharo, 
having  ceased  to  suck  his  teeth  in  order  to  suck 
champagne,  was  loudly  recounting  the  strange  story 
of  how  he  had  been  forewarned  in  a  dream  of  the 
result  of  the  St.  Leger  in  1894  to  several  of  his  fel- 
low guests,  who  were  paying  no  attention  to  him  but 
were  engaged  in  strident  conversation  on  their  own 
account.  Their  daughter,  Gloria  Pharo,  was  there 
of  course,  green  as  a  summer  apple  and  smiling  with 
green  admiration  at  Mrs.  Tavistock.  Mr.  Harry 
Pink  was  there,  a  great  personality  in  Coombe  Puddy, 
being  one  of  those  awfully  large,  jovial,  hearty,  dull, 
country  gentlemen,  who  may  be  trusted  to  do  the 
right  thing  in  the  wrong  way.  His  sister,  Miss 
Daphne  Pink,  was  there.  She  was  one  of  the  local 
ladies  who  had  aspired  to  a  permanent  position  at 
the  Hall,  and  wore  a  slightly  patronizing  air.  Mrs. 
Duckingham  Leape,  Rumour's  most  eminent  agent 
in  this  district,  was  there  or  thereabouts,  busily  en- 
gaged in  mental  valuation  of  her  neighbours'  dresses 


120  THE  DIPPERS 

and  chattering  with  the  irrelevant  pertinacity  of  a 
parrot.  Mrs.  Buzzard  Knowles  was  right  there. 
Mr.  Buzzard  Knowles  was  somewhere  there.  All 
the  purple  and  fine  linen  of  a  score  of  County  fam- 
ilies was  displayed,  admired,  criticized,  trodden  on 
and  apologized  about.  All  their  diamond  heirlooms 
and  pearl  necklaces  and  precious  stones  flashed  and 
sparkled  everywhere  beneath  lamps  of  unlimited  can- 
dle-power. Heads  dark,  fair,  auburn,  golden;  heads 
of  waved  hair,  of  bobbed  hair,  of  peroxide  hair; 
heads  enriched  with  bands  of  gold,  of  velvet,  of 
gilt  leaves,  in  one  case  of  grapes — all  were  borne 
proudly  yet  with  abandon  through  the  doorway  into 
the  hall,  accompanied  by  loftier  but  less  conspicu- 
ous heads  sleek  with  oil  or  shining  with  the  radiance 
of  the  hairless  epicure  after  doing  himself  justice. 
And  loftiest  and  most  relucent  of  all  appeared  the 
head  of  his  lordship  the  host,  his  large  face  beaming 
with  satisfaction  at  the  favourable  auspices  gained  by 
his  copious  libations  of  Pommery. 

For  this  was  the  hour  ordained  by  Lord  Melling- 
ham  for  his  joyous  claim.  Ere  this  night  had  passed 
he  would  have  revealed  his  passion  and  clasped  the 
unpremeditating  lady  of  his  choice  to  his  broad 
shirt-front.  He  noticed  that  several  of  his  guests 
had,  with  feminine  instinct,  already  scented  his  in- 
tentions. He  had  intercepted  glances  cast  in  Mrs. 
Tavistock's  direction  by  such  connoisseurs  as  Lady 


THE  DIPPERS  121 

Pharo,  Miss  Pink  and  Miss  Blanche  Scollop,  which 
betrayed  their  emotions  even  to  his  unpractised  eye. 
He  contemplated  his  lady-love  stealthily,  as  he  ac- 
companied her  from  the  room.  He  had  every  reason 
to  feel  proud  of  his  find.  True,  her  dress  was  less 
brilliant  in  hue  than  those  affected  by  some  of  his 
respected  friends — this  was  only  to  be  expected  in 
a  widow — but  her  grey  satin  gown  ornamented  with 
sequins  was  worn  with  an  elegance  which  even  Miss 
Withers,  who  was  decked  in  scarlet  with  other  de- 
lights, failed  to  rival.  No  grapes  encircled  Mrs. 
Tavistock's  brow,  and  such  jewellery  as  she  wore 
could  not  hope  to  vie  with  some  of  the  magnificent 
stones  displayed  around  her.  Throughout  the  din- 
ner she  had  maintained  her  charming  ease  of  de- 
meanour. She  had  been  less  boisterous,  perhaps  than 
the  majority,  but  was  not  accustomed,  as  Lord  Mel- 
lingham  judiciously  guessed,  to  dinner  parties  of 
such  dimensions.  Her  spirits  would  rise  as  she 
gained  experience  of  his  mode  of  hospitality.  And 
if,  for  a  moment,  Lord  Mellingham  felt  in  his  mind 
a  passing  sensation  of  perplexity  that  one  so  modest, 
so  unused  to  all  the  glamour  of  high  living  as  she, 
should  have  stolen  his  carefully  tended  affections, 
the  shadowy  doubt  was  dispelled  by  a  glance  into 
her  eyes,  as  she  turned  towards  him  in  the  doorway. 
He  was  glad  that,  having  been  baffled  in  his  earlier 
attempts  to  speak  his  mind,  he  had  postponed  the 


122  THE  DIPPERS 

appeal  until  it  might  be  made  in  this  hour  of  his 
domestic  triumph.  Here,  in  this  atmosphere  of 
revelry  and  music,  in  an  environment  which  displayed 
all  the  gifts  he  had  to  offer  at  their  richest,  the  full 
magnitude  of  her  possession  should  be  revealed  to 
her.  Happy  woman !  when  all  around  her  thronged 
virgins  and  widows  who  would  have  given  their  all 
for  her  chance. 

Suddenly,  at  the  psychological  moment,  just  as  the 
Babel  of  conversation  on  the  terraces  was  increasing 
to  a  fever  pitch  and  the  haze  of  blue  smoke  was 
drifting  into  the  brightly  illuminated  hall,  came  the 
sound  of  banjos  and  trap-drums  in  a  burst  of  rag- 
time from  the  ball-room.  The  effect  was  electric. 
The  guests  came  pouring  back  into  the  hall,  singing 
in  accompaniment  to  the  familiar  tune  and  facetiously 
practising  preliminary  steps.  Lord  Mellingham  ad- 
vanced and  raised  his  voice  above  the  clamour  in  a 
few  words  of  benevolent  encouragement. 

"Come,  my  dear  people,"  he  cried.  "Make  the 
most  of  your  time.  Lead  the  way  to  the  ball-room,  I 
pray  you.  Commence  your  juzz." 


CHAPTER  VI 

"T  SHOULD  like  to  ascertain  how  the  prepara- 

I  tions  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dipper  have  progressed," 

said  Lord  Mellingham  to  Mrs.  Tavistock,  "but 

I  hesitate  to  go  and  inquire,  because  they  are  in  their 

bedroom,  and  to  disturb  them  might  be  considered  in 

doubtful  taste." 

"They  will  have  to  be  disturbed  by  some  means  or 
other,"  was  the  reply,  "or  they  will  think  you  don't 
require  them  to  appear  after  all,  and  will  retire  into 
their  bedroom  beds,  which  would  only  mean  further 
delay.  If  I  may  make  the  suggestion,  I  think  this  is 
one  of  the  occasions  when  your  inter-bedroom  tele- 
phone system  might  be  called  into  use." 

"To  be  sure.  What  happy  inspirations  you  enjoy, 
dear  lady." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Lord  Mellingham ;  but  I  suppose 
you  only  have  telephones  in  your  spare  bedrooms  be- 
cause there  are  times  when  your  lady  guests  may  be 
heard  but  not  seen." 

"True,"  said  Lord  Mellingham.  "I  will  com- 
municate with  the  Old  Bedroom  from  my  study." 

123 


I24  THE  DIPPERS 

He  returned  to  Mrs.  Tavistock's  side  a  few 
minutes  later,  wearing  a  rather  puzzled  expression. 

"I  can  only  trust,"  he  observed,  "that  the  dancing 
of  Mrs.  Dipper  is  more  remarkable  than  her  men- 
tality. I  opened  the  conversation  by  asking  her 
whether  she  had  heard  that  her  husband  had  arrived, 
and  she  replied  with  some  agitation  in  the  negative. 
On  further  inquiries,  however,  I  elicited  the  informa- 
tion that  she  had  seen  her  husband,  who  is  still,  it 
appears,  engaged  in  his  toilet.  Finally  she  agreed  to 
descend  when  they  shall  have  completed  their  ar- 
rangements. Not  that  they  are  required  to  perform 
just  yet,  but  their  whole  attitude  seems  strangely  dila- 
tory." 

"Probably  the  husband's  late  arrival  has  rather 
upset  them.  Also,  I  suppose,  the  fact  that  he  is 
trying  to  complete  his  toilet  in  your  clothes  may  ac- 
count for  a  certain  amount  of  delay.  I  expect  they 
will  be  ready  by  the  time  they  are  wanted." 

"No  doubt,"  agreed  Lord  Mellingham,  knitting 
his  brows.  "At  the  same  time" — and  he  squared  his 
shoulders — "I  shall  not  encourage  any  hanky-panky 
from  persons  of  their  calibre.  If  they  do  not  put  in 
an  appearance  shortly,  I  will  institute  further  in- 
quiries." 

"OH,  I'm  sorry,"  said  Henry  Talboyes,  as  he 
entered  the  Old  Bedroom.  "You  said  'Come  in'  you 


THE  DIPPERS  125 

Jcnow,  and  I  thought  you'd  have  finished  putting  your 
dress  on." 

"Well,  so  I  have,"  said  Pauline. 

"Oh,  have  you?  I'm  sorry.  Mistake  anyone 
might  make." 

"It's  a  very  pretty  dress." 

"I  know  it  is,  only  isn't  it  a  bit — concentric,  so  to 
speak?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Pauline.  "This  is 
the  dress  which  makes  it  so  important  for  me  to  get 
that  fee.  It's  a  beauty." 

"I  know  it  is,"  admitted  Talboyes.  "I  haven't 
anything  against  the  dress  at  all,  but,  if  it  comes  to 
that,  you  haven't  very  much.  I  don't  wish  to  be  per- 
sonal and  I  think  it's  a  charming  dress,  only  I  didn't 
know  that  evening  dresses  were  quite  so — so  middle- 
most." 

"You  didn't  expect  me  to  appear  in  an  ordinary 
evening  gown,  did  you?"  said  Pauline  with  some  im- 
patience. 

"No,"  he  replied.  "Although  I  don't  know  you 
very  well,  I  don't  think  I  ever  expected  that." 

Pauline  gave  a  little  pout  of  displeasure. 

"My  shoulders  are  generally  admired,"  she  con- 
tinued. 

"Yes,  I  can  see  that,"  said  Talboyes. 

"And  you  know,  or  ought  to  know,  that  in  a  good 
many  of  one's  more  spirited  movements,  the  shoul- 


126  THE  DIPPERS 

ders  come  into  play  pretty  freely.  People  like  to 
watch  that." 

Talboyes  stared  at  her. 

"By  Jove,  you  do  think  of  things,"  he  commented. 

"And,  regarding  my  legs " 

"Right,"  said  Talboyes,  complying. 

"You  don't  expect  me  to  dance  in  a  train,  do  you?" 

"To  dance  in  a  train?"  cried  Talboyes,  amazed  at 
such  an  inapposite  suggestion. 

Pauline  resumed  the  offensive  with  the  brisk  curt- 
ness  of  speech  and  manner  characteristic  of  her. 

"Look  here,  don't  stand  and  waste  time  with  your 
footling  remarks.  We've  got  to  look  sharp.  They've 
already  been  inquiring  about  us  on  the  phone.  And, 
if  you're  going  to  be  personal  about  appearances, 
look  at  you'' 

"I  know,"  admitted  Talboyes,  stroking  the 
trousers  which  fell  in  folds  over  his  legs.  "I  have 
been  warned  myself  before  now  that  I  was  getting 
rather  corpulent,  and  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I 
have  gone  to  a  good  deal  of  pains  to  reduce  my 
weight.  Only  this  evening  I  ran  for  several  miles,  and 
I  have  started  a  regular  system  of  being  Swedish  to 
myself  in  my  bath,  or  letting  somebody  else  be  Turk- 
ish to  me  in  theirs." 

"Yes;  well,  never  mind  that  now " 

"But  I  do  mind.  Just  when  it's  important  that  I 
should  look  my  best.  I  could  have  worn  these  things 


THE  DIPPERS  127 

comfortably  a  few  months  ago.  When  I  think  what 
I  have  endured,  being  beaten  with  hot  towels 
and—" 

"Shut  up.  Every  moment  we  have  together  is 
precious." 

Talboyes  looked  up  at  her  with  a  queer  smile. 

"What  a  strange  woman  you  are.  What  do  you 
want  me  to  do  now?" 

"We've  got  to  go  down  there  before  long,"  said 
Pauline  with  a  demonstrative  gesture.  "There  we 
shall  be  expected  to  go  through  with  the  business  as 
though  we'd  never  had  another  partner  all  our  lives. 
I  don't  know  how  we're  going  to  do  it,  but  we  must 
try.  Whatever  happens,  nobody  must  guess  that 
you're  not  really  my  husband.  Don't  for  an  instant 
let  your  mind  wander  or  forget  that  you  are  my  hus- 
band. And,  however  good  a  performer  you  may  be, 
we  must  get  in  a  good  practice  even  if  it's  only  to 
gain  the  impression  of  our  familiarity  with  each 
other.  Come  on  now.  Catch  hold  of  me  and  let  me 
get  an  idea  of  your  form." 

Talboyes  with  an  air  of  resignation  decided  to  do 
his  best.  He  assumed  a  sheepish  smile  and,  advanc- 
ing a  few  steps  towards  her,  extended  his  arms  cere- 
moniously. 

"Darling!"  he  exclaimed. 

Pauline  posed  herself  for  his  reception  with  a 
quick  smile. 


128  THE  DIPPERS 

"Don't  play  the  fool,"  she  said.  "Come  on, 
catch  hold  and  let's  see  what  you  can  do." 

"I  don't  see  that  this  is  really  necessary,"  said 
Talboyes  as  he  stepped  towards  her.  "Still  there 
may  be  something  in  what  you  say  about  environ* 
ment." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  delicately 
upon  the  lips.  A  sharp  box  on  the  left  ear  was  his 
reward. 

"Look  here,"  she  cried,  "don't  you  imagine  that 
I'm  going  to  put  up  with  that  sort  of  thing.  Do 
the  thing  properly  without  wasting  time." 

"Good  God!"  cried  Talboyes,  stepping  back  and 
rubbing  his  ear,  "Do  you  expect  me  to  bite  you?" 

"I'm  not  like  that  at  all,"  remarked  Pauline  with 
demure  asperity.  "Can't  you  do  what's  required  of 
you  in  the  proper  way?" 

"Proper?"  echoed  Talboyes.  "I  like  that  Let 
me  tell  you  that  this  is  verging  on  about  as  improper 
a  proceeding  as  I've  ever  experienced.  Not  only  that, 
you  seem  to  me  to  be  entirely  unreasonable.  You  ask 
me  to  behave  as  though  I  were  your  husband,  and  yet 
I  can't  get  as  far  as  kissing  you  without  being  as- 
saulted." 

"All  right,  all  right,"  said  Pauline,  snapping  with 
impatience  the  fingers  of  her  left  hand  which  was 
still  extended  at  the  requisite  angle  for  the  dancing 
rehearsal.  "If  you'll  only  come  on  and  go  ahead 


THE  DIPPERS  129 

* 

with  this  practice  I'll  overlook  that  little  peccadillo. 
In  fact,  if  you're  very  good  and  please  me,  I  might 
even  let  you  do  it  again  at  the  end  of  the  evening." 

"I  have  no  desire  whatsoever  to  do  it  again,"  said 
Talboyes,  still  rubbing  his  ear.  "And  what  on  earth 
you  desire  me  to  try  and  do  to  you  now  I  simply 
dare  not  think." 

"Oh,  cut  that  out;  you  do  waste  such  a  lot  of 
time." 

"Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"Why,  dance  up  and  down  this  room  of  course." 

"Dance  up  and  down  the  room?"  cried  Talboyes 
in  the  most  incredulous  tone.  "No,  hang  it" — he 
pulled  himself  up  and  jerked  his  head  in  a  manner 
which  clearly  betokened  that  he  was  not  to  be  trifled 
with  to  that  extent — "there  are  limits,  you  know.  I 
suppose  the  next  thing  you  will  want  me  to  do  will 
be  to  scale  up  to  the  top  of  the  wardrobe.  No,  you 
can't  pull  my  leg  quite  as  much  as  all  that." 

"Oh,  don't  trifle  with  me,"  said  Pauline  petulantly. 

"I  certainly  shan't  attempt  to  do  so  again,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"But  we  must  rehearse,"  she  repeated,  stamping 
her  little  foot  in  vexation. 

"So  you  keep  on  saying,  but  I  haven't  a  glimmer- 
ing  of  what  you  mean  by  that  rather  vague  term.  I'm 
quite  ready  to  help  you.  I've  said  I  would  and  I 
will.  Only  do  be  more  explicit.  I'm  supposed  to  be 


130  THE  DIPPERS 

your  husband,  but  you  haven't  given  me  the  least  in- 
formation about  yourself.  Let's  make  a  fresh  start. 
Let's  see  exactly  how  we  stand.  You've  been  stand- 
ing in  a  peculiar  position  for  about  two  minutes.  Has 
that  anything  to  do  with  it?" 

Pauline  relaxed  her  peculiar  position  and  gazed  at 
him  with  an  expression  of  searching  misgiving. 

"You  know  what  Hank  and  I  do?"  she  fal- 
tered. 

Talboyes  stroked  his  chin. 

"I  refuse  to  be  led  into  any  further  speculations. 
I  have  already  taken  what  I  considered  to  be  a  com- 
paratively elementary  chance,  and  you  replied  by  giv- 
ing me  a  violent  blow  over  the  head." 

"But,  when  you  said  you  could  take  Hank's  place, 
you  meant  that  you  were  a  tip-top  dancer?  Oh, 
please  say  you  meant  that." 

The  sudden  apprehension  had  robbed  Pauline  of 
all  her  disdain.  She  stretched  an  appealing  hand  to- 
wards Talboyes  in  pathetic  supplication.  There  was 
no  need  for  him  to  reply.  His  countenance  was  suf- 
ficiently eloquent. 

"Dancer!    Good  Lord,  now  I  begin  to  see !" 

Pauline  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  turned  slowly  and 
flung  herself  on  to  a  chair.  Her  feather  fan  fell  to 
the  floor,  but  she  made  no  effort  to  recover  it.  Sud- 
denly she  broke  the  silence,  gesticulating  wildly  witH 
her  hand  towards  the  telephone. 


THE  DIPPERS  131 

"And  IVe  just  told  them  that  we  shall  be  down  in 
no  time  to  entertain  them." 

He  was  silent,  and  after  a  moment's  pause  she 
shot  a  keen  glance  at  his  face.  It  was  lowered  in 
examination  of  the  borrowed  pumps  which  were  half 
a  size  too  large  for  him.  As  he  slowly  raised  his 
head  she  saw  that  he  was  bursting  with  uncontrollable 
laughter. 

She  looked  him  up  and  down  in  haughty  displeas- 
ure, as  she  might  have  regarded  some  obstreperous 
youth  of  her  town  acquaintance  who  had  overstepped 
the  somewhat  shadowy  bounds  of  her  prescribed  de- 
corum. But  Pauline  was  a  nimble-witted  woman,  and 
the  twin  imps  of  mischief  and  humour  are  always  on 
the  heels  of  wit,  alert  for  a  commission.  The  frown 
upon  her  face  softened  by  slow  degrees  as  she  felt 
the  infection  of  the  hopeless  humour  which  Henry 
Talboyes  found  in  the  situation.  In  his  eyes  were 
tears  of  laughter.  He  wiped  them  away  apologetic- 
ally with  Lord  Mellingham's  second-best  sleeve. 

"Oh  dear,  I'm  sorry,"  he  said.  "But  I  simply  can't 
help  laughing.  I'm  afraid  we've  been  rather  at 
cross-purposes.  Look  at  these  beastly  clothes.  The 
idea  of  appearing  in  them  is  comic  enough,  but  as 
for  dancing  in  them " 

"But  don't  you  dance  at  all?  I  suppose  you  have 
some  idea.  Can  you  jazz?" 

"Jazz?    Ah,  I've  heard  of  that;  in  fact,  I  think 


132  THE  DIPPERS 

IVe  condemned  it;  but  I  don't  think  I've  ever  actually 
seen  it  done." 

"But  what  the  dickens  are  we  to  do?"  cried  Paul- 
ine. "It  would  be  all  right  if  they  hadn't  telephoned 
just  now,  but  as  it  is  I've  said  that  I've  seen  my  hus- 
band and  we'll  be  ready  to  go  down  and  jazz  at 
them  in  about  two  twos." 

Talboyes  restrained  his  mirth  and  deliberated. 

"Much  depends  on  whether  the  old  lord  has  a 
sense  of  humour." 

Pauline  waved  her  arms  about  in  emphatic  argu- 
ment. 

"A  man  who  keeps  telephones  in  his  bedrooms  !" 

"That  doesn't  follow,"  said  Talboyes.  "A  sense 
of  humour  is  the  keynote  of  immorality.  At  the 
same  time  I  follow  your  argument.  I  have  seen  the 
front  of  the  house  and  the  hall  and  this  room.  I 
have  seen  his  dressing-room  and  I  have  seen  his  dress 
clothes.  The  old  lord  has  not  got  a  sense  of  humour. 
l,  then  -  " 


Pauline  drummed  with  her  fingers  on  the  arm  of 
the  chair. 

"You  gave  me  to  understand  you'd  heard  of  Hank. 
It  never  entered  my  head  that  you  didn't  know  who 
he  was.  In  fact,  I  believe  you  distinctly  said  that 
you  had  heard  of  him." 

Talboyes  defended  his  attitude  with  some  vehe- 
mence. 


THE  DIPPERS  133 

"Show  me  the  man  who,  when  a  lady  says  'My 
husband  is  the  famous  Mr.  So-and-so,'  will  have  the 
courage  to  reply  Tve  never  heard  of  him.' ' 

"But  I  kept  on  talking  about  dancing.  I  said  I 
had  a  new  kind  of  hesitation.  There's  only  one  kind 
of  hesitation." 

"I  thought  you  meant  my  kind,"  replied  Talboyes, 
with  a  droll  modesty  which  disarmed  criticism. 

Pauline  could  only  throw  up  her  head  with  a  curt 
laugh.  Then,  woman-like,  she  returned  to  her  re- 
monstrance. 

"And  did  you  suppose  they  made  it  worth  our 
while  to  come  down  to  a  place  like  this  and  do  noth- 
ing gracefully  for  a  handsome  fee?" 

"Yes,  I  did.  I  imagined  that  the  old  lord — well, 
simply  hired  you,  to  put  it  bluntly,  to  come  and  be 
one  of  his  party.  I  know  I  should  try  and  do  the 
same  if  I  were  an  old  lord,  though  I  don't  suppose  I 
should  make  quite  such  a  point  of  Hank,  and  the 
party  would  possibly  be  very  much  more  exclusive." 

Pauline's  eyes  brightened  perceptibly,  but  she 
raised  a  playfully  protesting  finger. 

"I  never  go  anywhere  without  my  husband,"  she 
said. 

"That  is  what  I  should  describe  as  the  official  state- 
ment of  the  matter,"  replied  Talboyes.  "And,  as 
long  as  the  old  lord  and  his  friends  believe  it,  well 
and  good.  But,  when  the  husband  with  whom  you 


134  THE  DIPPERS 

have  gone  anywhere  on  this  occasion  begins  to  jazz, 
several  things  may  happen.  The  old  lord  has  no 
sense  of  humour,  remember.  We  shall  probably  fin- 
ish up  together  in  the  local  gaol.  You  will  lose  the 
fee  you  set  so  much  store  upon  and  your  dressmaker 
will  sue  you — or  part  of  you — for  wearing  that 
dress  without  being  in  a  position  to  pay  for  it.  Mean- 
while Hank  will  arrive  and  sue  you  for  divorce  witK 
myself  as  co-respondent,  which  will  incidentally  be 
most  frightfully  inconvenient  for  me,  as  I  have  rea- 
sons for  desiring  to  be  a  particularly  upright  char- 
acter just  now — not,  of  course,  that  I  have  ever  been 
anything  else." 

"I  can  manage  Hank,"  Pauline  assured  him. 

"You  haven't  managed  him  very  well  to-night." 

"You  don't  feel  capable  of  putting  up  a  good 
enough  show  to  take  these  people  in?" 

Talboyes  briefly  described  his  dancing  capabilities 
with  more  intensity  than  conceit.  Gradually  the  cloud 
had  gathered  again  on  Pauline's  brow.  She  found 
herself  in  a  very  delicate  situation,  one  which  de- 
manded all  her  acuteness.  She  looked  at  the  stout, 
middle-aged  gentleman  of  military  appearance  with 
the  neat  moustache,  as  he  stood  before  her  in  the 
ridiculous  degradation  of  his  voluminous,  borrowed 
clothes  with  the  patient  suffrance  of  some  stately 
domestic  animal,  whom  children  have  been  mischiev- 
ously decorating.  A  throb  of  derisive  laughter,  the 


THE  DIPPERS  135 

echo  of  her  former  mirth,  shook  her  as  she  beheld 
him.  But  already  her  mind  was  occupied  with  one 
prevailing  motive. 

At  all  costs  she  must  save  her  face,  she  must  try 
to  persuade  this  unfortunate  victim,  in  lieu  of  a  bet- 
ter to  be  dragged  below  and  to  perform  with  the  aid 
of  Providence  such  gyrations  as  might  possibly  gull 
a  country  house-party  into  vain  admiration.  It  was 
not  really  the  fee  which  lured  her  to  this  desperate 
course.  It  was  the  certain  knowledge  that  the  viola- 
tion of  an  important  engagement  at  this  period  of  her 
career  would  mean  a  blow  to  the  reputation  of  Hank 
and  Pauline  Dipper  from  which  they  could  not  hope 
to  recover.  Ever}7  agent  in  the  country  would  give 
them  the  cold  shoulder.  As  it  was,  they  found  recog- 
nition difficult  enough  to  obtain,  and  it  was  only 
by  means  of  a  studied  extravagance  that  they  some- 
times were  enabled  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  gentle- 
man with  the  cigars  who  presided  over  the  fortunes 
of  public  entertainers.  Hank,  by  some  inexplicable 
mischance,  had  failed  her  at  the  unforgiving  minute, 
and  she  felt  that  all  her  faculties  must  be  exercised, 
if  she  were  to  save  him  and  herself  from,  dis- 
aster. 

As  Talboyes  in  his  philosophic  humour  predicted, 
Hank  might  arrive  just  at  the  most  inconvenient  mo- 
ment, but  this  was  a  contingency  which  she  viewed 
without  great  apprehension.  He  might  be  in  time  to 


136  THE  DIPPERS 

perform  or,  at  any  rate,  to  appear  towards  the  end 
of  the  entertainment,  in  which  case  Pauline  felt  that 
she  could  make  her  revelation  in  a  manner  warranted 
to  conciliate  any  old  lord,  and  possibly  enrapture 
the  guests,  provided  only  that  she  had  kept  them 
thoroughly  delighted  with  herself  and  her  temporary 
Hank  up  to  that  time.  She  looked  again  towards  the 
heavy,  immobile  man  with  the  ridiculous  trousers. 
Could  he,  would  he  do  it?  There  was  no  time  to 
lose.  She  must  play  her  strongest  card  without  fur- 
ther delay. 

Pauline  settled  herself  on  her  chair,  turned  her  be- 
witching face  upwards  with  an  expression  of  appeal- 
ing distress  at  a  large  water-colour  of  a  group  of 
ladies,  au  naturel,  in  a  procession  with  a  lion  and  a 
copious  supply  of  pink  roses,  and  strained  herself  in 
an  effort  to  compel  tears  to  her  eyes.  It  was  not  long 
before  Talboyes  noticed.  "Hallo !"  he  cried.  "I  say 
what's  up  now?  You  were  laughing  a  moment  ago. 
Don't  say  you've  got  hysterics.  Where's  that  cham- 
pagne?" 

"No,  it's  only  the  disappointment.  It's  much 
worse  than  it  ever  was  now.  I'm  not  angry  with  you, 
don't  think  that." 

"I  should  jolly  well  hope  you  weren't.  I 
shouldn't  think  of  offering  to  try  and  do  a  service 
for  a  lady  who  is  angry  with  a  man  because  he 
doesn't  jazz." 


THE  DIPPERS  137 

"But  can  you  be  of  service  to  me  if  you  won't  try 
and  jazz?" 

"AYho  says  I  won't  try  and  jazz?" 

"You  will?"  she  cried,  pausing  in  her  effort  to 
weep. 

"I  promised  to  help  you  as  you  saw  fit.  I  dare 
say  I  shall  make  a  howling  mess  of  it,  but  that's  your 
look  out.  I  would  do  what  you  called  upon  me  to 
attempt  if  Hank  was  a  trainer  of  wild  beasts." 

"This  is  topping  of  you,"  said  Pauline,  rising. 

"Not  at  all,"  he  replied.  "It's  entirely  up  to  you. 
I  don't  possess  the  first  glimmering  of  how  to  jazz, 
and  we  are  both  engaging  in  a  criminal  deception.  If 
I  were  Nijinsky  it  might  be  easier  to  square  one's 
conscience,  but  as  it  is  I  shall  let  you  down." 

"I  may  be  able  to  pull  you  through,"  said  Pauline, 
standing  before  him,  "if  you'll  hold  me  tight  and  let 
me  guide  you." 

Talboyes  smiled  upon  her  critically. 

"Oh,  if  it's  merely  a  question  of  holding  you  tight, 
I  am  Nijinsky." 

"Come,  let's  try  and  see  how  we  get  on." 

Talboyes  hesitated. 

"Seriously,"  he  said,  "you  don't  intend  to  perse- 
vere with  this  outrage?" 

"What  else  can  I  do  unless  Hank  turns  up — and 
he  is  evidently  not  going  to?  I  can  coach  you  a  little 
here,  and  then  I  can  tell  you  a  few  things  about  danc- 


138  THE  DIPPERS 

ing  in  general,  which  you  must  remember  carefully, 
in  case  people  come  and  ask  you  questions." 

"All  right,"  said  Talboyes  with  a  sigh  of  resigna- 
tion. "Heaven  knows  what  the  end  of  it  may  be, 
but  do  what  you  like  with  me." 

"Start  with  a  simple  step,"  said  Pauline,  engaging 
him  with  practical  dexterity.  "Right  hand  here, 
please.  That's  it.  Now  forward.  Sway." 

"Sway?" 

"Yes,  sway,  sway." 

"Sway,  sway,"  repeated  Talboyes,  as  he  suffered 
himself  to  be  trotted  for  several  paces  across  the 
extensive  carpet. 

"You  are  doing  your  best,  aren't  you?"  asked 
Pauline,  glancing  up  at  him. 

"Absolutely.     I  told  you  I  didn't " 

"All  right,  try  again.  Sway.  Don't  over- 
sway." 

"This  swaying  business,"  Talboyes  ejaculated  with 
difficulty  in  the  midst  of  his  struggles,  "is  a  bit  steep 
for  a  simple  step,  isn't  it?" 

"Don't  talk.  I'll  do  any  talking  that's  necessary. 
Now,  swing  me  round." 

"Swing?    Really  I  don't " 

"Swing — a  simple  swing.    Are  you  trying?" 

"Very,  I'm  afraid.    I  mean " 

"Now  back  again.     Lumber  more." 

"Lumber?    Yes,  but  you  see " 


THE  DIPPERS  139 

"Lumber.  Don't  talk  all  the  time.  Lumber  from 
the  hip." 

"Hip?" 

Pauline  halted,  released  herself  from  his  grasp, 
and  surveyed  him  as  a  schoolmistress  might  survey 
an  incorrigible  boy. 

"You're  awful!"  was  her  terse  verdict. 

"Quite  hopeless,  I  should  think,"  said  Talboyes 
in  a  relieved  tone. 

After  a  brief  pause  Pauline  straightened  herself 
for  another  effort. 

"Now  try  gripping  me  quickly  with  the  left  hand 
under  the  knees." 

"Great  Scot!"  said  Talboyes.  "Is  that  done  in 
the  jazz?" 

"None  of  this  is  really  jazz.  If  it  comes  to  that 
there  is  really  no  dance  called  jazz  at  all.  Jazz  is 
simply  the  name  given  to  the  music  which  accom- 
panies the  dance." 

"Then  it's  even  worse  than  I  thought." 

"The  dance  itself  was  originally  'The  Shimmy 
Shake.'  " 

"Indeed?"  said  Talboyes.  "Of  course  I  only 
learnt  the  old  and  comparatively  stately  dances,  such 
as  the  'Can-can.' ' 

Pauline,  adjusting  the  silver  bandeau  in  her  hair, 
hastily  continued  the  primary  course  of  professional 
instruction. 


140  THE  DIPPERS 

"The  movements  which  I  am  trying  to  show  you 
are  peculiar " 

"I  can  well  believe  that,"  he  interrupted,  watching 
with  some  admiration  the  deft  activity  of  the  fingers 
at  work  upon  the  raven  hair. 

"Peculiar  to  professional  dancing.  They  are  the 
ordinary,  everyday  stunts  which  will  be  expected  of 
you.  So  it  doesn't  really  seem  much  good  our  try- 
ing to  go  on,  does  it?" 

"No,  I'm  afraid  it  doesn't.  Still,  we  may  as  well 
just  try  this  business  of  gripping  you  under  your 
knees.  I  think  I  might  be  rather  good  at  that." 

"Well,  you  may  try  if  you  like,  only  be  careful 
not  to  let  me  fall." 

"Oh,  I  won't  do  that,"  Talboyes  assured  her,  as 
he  stooped  obligingly.  "I  don't  mean  to  let  you 
down  if  I  can  help  it.  How's  that  now?" 

He  passed  his  wrist  below  the  tendons  of  her 
knees  and  took  a  firm  grip  with  his  left  hand. 

"Ow,  don't  pinch,"  cried  Pauline.  "Can't  you  be 
a  little  more  easy  about  it?  What's  your  other  hand 
doing — your  right?  Take  it  off  my  elbow." 

"It  only  shows  that  my  right  hand  doesn't  know 
what  my  left  hand  is  doing,"  remarked  Talboyes, 
"or  it  certainly  wouldn't  be  content  with  an  el- 
bow." 

"Oh,  please  let  me  go.  I've  never  seen  such  a 
clumsy,  unscientific  exhibition  in  all  my  life." 


THE  DIPPERS  141 

"Well,  dash  it,  this  is  only  my  first  attempt.  You 
don't  think  that  I  have  made  a  habit  of  gripping 
ladies  under  their  knees?" 

"Well,  put  your  other  hand  on  my  waist  and  lift 


me." 


"There  you  are,"  said  Talboyes,  carrying  out  this 
manoeuvre  without  difficulty. 

"That's  right.  Now  keep  me  there.  You've  got 
to  try  spinning  while  holding  me  up." 

"Spinning!     Good  heavens!" 

"I'm  not  heavy.     Go  on." 

"Yes,  but  I'm  a  rotten  poor  spinner  at  the  best  of 
times." 

"Try." 

"Which  way?" 

"There's  only  one  way  to  spin.  Round  and 
round." 

"Ah  no,  you're  wrong,"  argued  Talboyes,  swaying 
her  recumbent  figure  in  semi-circles  on  either  hand, 
Ttthere's  clockwise  and  anti-clockwise." 

"Either.  Only  do  please  be  careful.  You're  pinch- 
ing me  frightfully." 

Talboyes  drew  a  deep  breath  as  though  about  to 
plunge  his  head  into  water  for  a  considerable  time. 
He  then,  with  a  great  effort,  commenced  to  shuffle 
on  one  flat  foot  after  the  other  in  a  vaguely  circular 
movement.  He  groaned  as  he  did  so,  but  the  groan 
must  have  been  reflective  of  his  loss  of  dignity  rather 


i42  THE  DIPPERS 

than  a  comment  on  Pauline's  weight,  which  was  al- 
most negligible. 

Suddenly  Talboyes  paused ;  so  suddenly  indeed  that 
Pauline  thought  that  she  had  slipped  from  his  grasp 
and  clung  more  tightly,  with  a  little  gasp  of 
fright. 

She  had  heard  nothing.  Talboyes  apparently  had 
been  arrested  by  a  warning  sound  from  without.  He 
renewed  his  hold  of  his  delicate  burden,  and  faced 
the  door  with  the  startled  misgiving  of  a  nervous 
burglar.  Pauline,  who  was  on  the  point  of  com- 
manding him  to  release  her  as  carefully  as  possible, 
noted  the  quick  apprehension  of  his  manner  and  was 
silent.  Amid  the  maelstrom,  mental  and  material, 
occasioned  by  his  laborious  execution  of  Hank's 
stunt,  Henry  Talboyes  thought  he  heard  some  one 
knocking  at  the  door. 

Some  one  had  knocked  at  the  door.  But  the  knock 
was  not  repeated.  The  knocker  considered  that  the 
inmates  of  the  room  had  received  sufficient  warn- 
ing. 

"Put  me  down,  Hank,"  said  Pauline,  with  com- 
mendable adaptability.  "And  please  be  careful." 

"Yes,  I  shall  have  to  be,"  gasped  Talboyes.  He 
made,  however,  no  immediate  effort  to  comply  with 
her  request,  but  stood  facing  the  intruder  with  a 
feeble  smile  of  guilty  astonishment. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  closed  the  door  behind  her  and 


THE  DIPPERS  143 

advanced  with  an  engaging  little  inclination  of  the 
head. 

"Good  evening — Hank,"  she  said  pleasantly.. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  GENTLEMAN  raised  himself  deliberately 
from  the  seat  of  a  partially  wrecked  car, 
which  rested  in  the  ditch  at  a  steep  bend  of 
a  remote  country  road.  Immediately  above  his  head 
was  a  hedge,  and  over  the  hedge  peered  the  heavily 
lined,  highly-coloured  countenance  of  a  farm  la- 
bourer. For  a  moment  or  two  the  occupant  of  the 
car  blinked  at  this  countenance  with  a  rather  dazed 
expression.  Then  he  turned  and  indicated  a  large, 
conglomerate  mass  which  lay  prone  in  the  road  beside 
the  car. 

"Say,"  began  the  car-driver,  "was  that  your  cow?" 

"Was?"  replied  the  other,  repeating  the  word  with 
tremulous  emphasis,  "What  d'yer  mean — was?  Yer 
ain't  gone  and  killed  the  cow,  'ave  yer?" 

Mr.  Hank  P.  Dipper  pulled  the  large  check  cap 
off  his  forehead  with  an  air  of  perplexity,  and  leant 
forward  to  obtain  a  clearer  view  of  his  victim. 

"She  don't  handsome  any,"  was  his  verdict. 

"What  d'yer  mean  by  that,  eh?" 

Mr.  Dipper  did  not  wait  to  explain.  He  scram- 
144 


THE  DIPPERS  145 

bled  with  some  difficulty  out  of  the  small  car,  vault- 
ing the  unnaturally  slanting  side,  and  stooping  over 
the  recumbent  cow  made  closer  examination. 

"She's  all  right,"  he  reported  in  more  cheerful 
tones.  "She  ain't  beef.  She's  vibratinV 

"That'll  be  them  nerves,"  commented  the  pessi- 
mist in  the  hedge.  "All  beasts  does  a  bit  o'  twitch- 
ing for  a  while  after." 

"She  ain't  out,"  insisted  Dipper.  "Her  eyes  are 
open." 

"That  don't  signify,"  said  the  labourer.  "Even 
mortal  eyes  keeps  open  after  'aving  breathed  their 
last,  and,  as  frequently  as  not,  has  to  be  closed  for  de- 
cency with  a  brace  o'  coppers." 

"She's  licking  her  chops,"  said  Dipper,  "which 
ain't  a  post-mortem  habit  in  anybody,  unless  it  was 
possibly  that  historical  guy  who  went  out  in  a  hogs- 
head of  wine.  No,  sir.  This  cow  is  not  out.  She 
just  got  a  good  bat  on  the  head,  which  may  make  her 
act  foolish  for  a  while ;  but  I  guess  that  don't  matter 
any  in  a  cow." 

"Yer'd  better  wait,"  was  the  guarded  reply.  "Yer 
may  have  broke  something." 

"Wait?  Broke  something?"  repeated  Dipper  with 
gentle,  American  sarcasm.  "Say,  you  want  to  be  in 
some  observatory."  He  indicated  the  car  with  his 
thumb.  "Have  you  noticed  my  automobile?" 

"Sarve  yer  out,  if  yer  can't  manage  more  careful 


i46  THE  DIPPERS 

than  to  come  into  contract  with  that  there  cow.  Sarve 
yer  out  I  say." 

Dipper  struck  the  attitude  of  an  orator  with  one 
hand  upon  his  hip  and  the  other  free  for  purposes 
of  demonstration.  He  then  proceeded  to  contest  the 
argument  from  the  hedge. 

"Say,"  was  his  inevitable  beginning.  "Say,  if 
your  pasture  land  is  in  such  bum  shape  that  this  un- 
fortunate creature  gets  scouting  around  on  a  tar- 
track  for  eatable  food,  I  guess  she's  mighty  sorry  I 
haven't  put  her  right  out.  If  she  got  straying  through 
jest  ordinary  inquisitiveness,  then  it  was  up  to  you  to 
round  her  up." 

"Yer  ain't  English,  are  yer?"  was  the  rather  un- 
expected reply. 

"No,  I'm  Hindoo,"  said  Dipper.  "Though  that 
don't  help  any." 

"Cows  has  as  much  right  to  the  road  as  what  you 
have." 

"Well,  she's  gotten  it" 

This  closed  the  discussion  for  several  moments. 
The  gentleman  in  the  hedge  seemed  dissatisfied  with 
his  progress  in  the  matter,  for  he  removed  an  aged 
straw  hat  with  a  gigantic  brim  and  wiped  his  brow 
with  the  back  of  his  hand.  His  chief  controversial 
gift  lay  in  his  ability  to  lead  the  conversation  into  new 
and  surprising  lines,  but  here,  it  seemed,  he  had  met 
his  match.  He  continued  to  ruminate  silently  upon 


THE  DIPPERS  147 

likely  lines  of  argument,  while  Dipper  turned  his  at- 
tention to  the  car. 

The  next  definite  move  in  the  game  was  made  by 
the  cow,  who  suddenly  regained  consciousness,  scram- 
bled to  her  feet  and  retired  hastily  from  the  scene 
of  action  through  a  gap  in  the  hedge,  lowing  in  a 
puzzled  manner  and  tossing  her  head  from  side  to 
side,  as  though  trying  to  rid  it  of  its  strange  dis- 
comfiture. 

On  witnessing  this  unexpected  resurrection,  the 
gentleman  in  the  hedge  altered  his  tactics.  He  in- 
formed Mr.  Dipper  that  the  cow  was  not  in  reality 
his  property,  but  Farmer  Mull's.  He  further  pointed 
out  that  the  car  might  now  be  lifted  back  on  to  the 
road  and  driven  thence  before  Farmer  Mull  dis- 
covered that  his  cow  had  been  damaged.  If  the  orig- 
inal witness  of  the  incident  could  only  be  prevailed 
on  to  keep  his  mouth  shut,  nobody  would  be  any  the 
wiser.  He  made  a  rough  valuation  of  how  much  this 
programme  might  be  worth  to  Dipper,  and  inci- 
dentally to  himself. 

Dipper's  reply  was  not  readily  understood,  but 
was  adjudged  to  be  discouraging.  The  witness  there- 
upon stated  his  intention  of  going  and  summoning 
Mull.  He  found  Dipper  strangely  unmoved  by  this 
threat,  the  latter  saying  that  if  any  question  of  com- 
pensation arose,  he  and  not  this  Reub,  Mull,  or 
whatever  the  ranch-owner's  name  was,  had  the  first 


148  THE  DIPPERS 

claim,  and  that,  so  far  as  that  part  of  the  Hedge- 
Reub's  suggested  bargain  was  concerned,  he,  Dipper, 
was  unprepared  to  come  across.  He  would,  however, 
accept  help  in  getting  the  automobile  back  on  to  the 
roadway.  After  a  few  minutes'  deliberation  the 
man  with  the  straw  hat  descended  from  his  hedge. 

The  car  was  soon  restored  from  its  position  in  the 
ditch.  The  lamps  had  been  smashed  and  a  wing 
dislocated.  The  front  axle  and  steering  had  also 
suffered,  though  to  how  great  an  extent  Mr.  Dipper 
boldly  resolved  to  determine  by  experiment.  The 
summer  evening  was  long,  and  he  would  not  have  re- 
course to  borrowing  lamps  if  the  steering  proved  sat- 
isfactory. He  restarted  the  engine  and  climbed  into 
the  driver's  seat.  The  man  from  the  hedge  stood 
inexorably  in  his  path.  Dipper  tried  him  with  a 
shilling,  and  the  other  accepted  this  in  payment  for 
practical  services  rendered,  but  made  further  ref- 
erences to  hush-money.  Dipper  thereupon  pulled 
from  his  waistcoat  pocket  an  ultimatum  in  the  form 
of  a  visiting-card,  which  he  bade  the  Hedge-Reub 
present  to  the  Ranch-Reub,  with  the  intimation  that, 
should  the  latter  desire  to  contest  the  case,  he  would 
be  mightily  happy  to  meet  him  in  the  courts.  Then 
with  a  threatening,  zigzag  motion,  the  little  car  de- 
parted on  its  way. 

There  are  some  men  who  court  adversity  in  order 
to  gratify  what  they  freely  advertise  as  their  ability 


THE  DIPPERS  149 

to  "win  through."  Mr.  Dipper  was  one  of  their 
number.  He  drove  a  car  which  he  knew  to  be  un- 
reliable if  not  unsafe.  He  was  haunted  by  a  suspicion 
that  he  had  long  since  mistaken  his  route.  But  he 
drove  on,  with  a  satisfied  smile  upon  his  lips,  glorying 
in  being  "up  against  it."  When  the  ponderous  and 
systematic  British  tortoise  would  have  paused  to  in- 
quire his  way,  this  Trans-Atlantic  hare  bolted  blindly 
ahead  with  all  the  optimism  which  his  superior  dash 
was  considered  to  warrant.  It  was  only  when  he  had 
paused  for  refreshment  at  a  village  inn,  many  miles 
from  the  scene  of  his  former  halt,  that,  provoked  by 
an  ever-increasing  doubt  as  to  his  whereabouts,  he 
sounded  the  buxom  country  barmaid  on  this  point. 

Pauline  was  aware  of  the  over-confident  nature  of 
her  husband.  She  knew  that  he  could  not  be  trusted 
to  remember  the  name  and  address  of  their  noble 
patron  of  this  evening.  She  had  therefore  taken  the 
trouble  to  write  these  details  carefully  on  the  back 
of  the  visiting  card  which  Hank  Dipper  had  presented 
to  his  confederate  of  the  hedgerow. 

Hank's  complacency  was  somewhat  disturbed  by 
this  discovery.  Over  his  first  glass  he  informed  him- 
self, with  a  modesty  which  he  seldom  displayed,  that 
anywhere  outside  of  a  dance-hall  he  was  a  pinhead. 
He  also  regretted  the  minor  instructional  engage- 
ment which  had  prevented  him  from  accompanying 
the  more  reliable  Pauline  down  by  train.  While  con- 


1150  THE  DIPPERS 

suming  his  second  glass  he  began  to  summon  fresh! 
energy.  He  was  already  overdue.  He  made  neces- 
sarily vague  inquiries  concerning  the  local  country 
seats.  These  only  resulted  in  a  decision  to  postpone 
further  investigations  until  he  was  in  Dorsetshire  in- 
stead of  Wiltshire;  and,  urging  his  protesting  two- 
seater  forward  with  the  recklessness  of  growing  de- 
spair, he  unconsciously  crossed  the  borderline  of  the 
two  counties  at  the  actual  moment  when  Mrs.  Tavi- 
stock crossed  the  threshold  of  the  Old  Bedroom. 

How  Mrs.  Tavistock  came  to  enter  that  room  may 
be  briefly  explained.  She  had  ascended  the  staircase 
not  as  an  envoy  but  as  a  refugee.  To  a  woman  of 
far  less  sagacity  it  would  have  been  obvious  that 
Lord  Mellingham  was  pluming  himself  for  the  im- 
pending declaration  of  his  passion.  Had  it  not  been 
for  his  fussy  discomfiture  over  the  apparent  defic- 
iencies of  the  Dippers,  that  declaration  would  prob- 
ably have  already  materialized.  Awaiting  it  firmly 
but  by  no  means  eagerly,  Mrs.  Tavistock  had  re- 
viewed her  position  with  a  feeling  of  dawning  re- 
morse. She  had  not,  it  is  true,  incited  the  love-sick 
peer;  indeed,  only  his  stubborn  vainglory  could  have 
survived  the  graceful  discouragements  which  she  had 
administered.  But  she  realized  that,  in  her  efforts 
to  gain  for  Helen  some  measure  of  the  recognition 
due  from  the  comfortable  uncle,  she  had  allowed  her- 
self to  be  drawn  into  a  highly  ornamental,  gilt  cage, 


THE  DIPPERS  151 

from  which  she  could  not  escape  without  the  loss  of 
two  or  three  feathers  of  self-respect. 

If  the  snobbery  of  Mellingham  Hall  and  its  in- 
mates surpassed  even  her  shrewd  anticipations;  if  its 
owner  proved  even  more  blindly,  ridiculously  enam- 
oured than  she  had  foreseen — yet  she  had  to  acknowl- 
edge to  herself  that  she  had  apparently  accepted  Lord 
Mellingham's  invitation  while  fully  aware  of  the  in- 
tentions which  had  prompted  it.  True,  she  had  been 
sincere  and  single-minded  in  her  main  desire  to  ad- 
vance Helen  and,  through  Helen,  the  poor,  proud, 
despised  little  family  at  Croydon,  but  even  here  she 
had  failed.  She  could  find  no  evidence  to  support 
Mrs.  Monk's  hopeful  theory  that  Lord  Mellingham 
would  do  something  for  Helen.  He  regarded  Helen 
with  rather  unnecessary  contempt.  This  was  Helen's 
one  and  only  chance  of  doing  something  for  herself, 
and  Peter  Dollery  had  proved  politely  unresponsive. 
Mrs.  Tavistock  found  it  difficult  to  blame  Peter.  As 
she  sat  and  meditated  alone,  she  watched  Helen,  who 
was,  at  this  moment,  asking  a  red-faced,  country 
youth,  with  a  shirtfront  which  insisted  on  protruding 
from  his  waistcoat,  wrhether  he  was  a  disciple  of 
Dostoieffsky  Mrs.  Tavistock  suddenly  decided  that 
they  would  depart  next  morning.  She  would  ward 
off  Lord  Mellingham's  advances  for  the  few  inter- 
vening hours;  and  thus  she  could  evade  the  charge, 
which  she  secretly  felt  to  be  justified,  that  she  had 


152  THE  DIPPERS 

come,  in  malice  aforethought,  to  flout  the  noble  par- 
venu in  the  midst  of  his  purchased  magnificence,  and 
to  snap  the  fingers  of  superior  taste  and  breeding  in 
a  countenance  swollen  with  ill-gotten  luxury.  For 
Mrs.  Tavistock  knew  that  the  superiority  of  taste  and 
breeding,  which  so  frequently  vents  itself  in  this  man- 
ner against  the  arrogance  of  possession,  proves  itself 
to  be  but  the  poor  relation  of  that  arrogance,  born 
of  the  same  stock  and  nurtured  by  the  same  prin- 
ciples. She  herself  was  fortunately  not  a  snob.  The 
dismay  with  which  she  shrank  from  the  sumptuous 
expensiveness  of  the  Hall  was  perfectly  genuine,  and 
for  this  very  reason  she  did  not  wish  to  seem  to  have 
gone  out  of  her  way  to  display  her  scorn.  If  she 
allowed  the  fat  peer  to  propose  to  her  and  promptly 
rejected  him,  she  could  find  no  honest  defence 
for  her  action  in  coming  to  this  place  at  all.  Al- 
ready the  members  of  the  house-party  were 
awaiting  hourly  the  announcement  of  her  en- 
gagement. If  the  offer  was  made  and  refused,  the 
worthy  gentleman  who  had  duly  inspected  and  turned 
down  every  eligible  maiden  in  the  neighbourhood 
would  not  easily  be  permitted  to  forget  that  he  had 
received  a  wholesome  snub  so  deliberately.  The 
charitable  nature  of  Mrs.  Tavistock  preferred  that 
Mrs.  Duckingham-Leape  should  favour  the  view  that 
Lord  Mellingham,  having  bidden  a  London  widow 
to  the  Hall  on  a  trial  trip,  had  thought  better  of  it, 


THE  DIPPERS  153 

and  very  wisely  too,  the  widow  being  of  decidedly 
bourgeois  appearance  and  address.  By  what  feas- 
ible method  could  she  avoid  the  imminent  fiasco  of 
an  almost  public  proposal? 

At  that  moment  Lord  Mellingham  was  still  at- 
tending to  some  trivial  detail  in  connection  with  the 
expected  appearance  of  the  Dippers.  It  was  un- 
likely that  he  would  broach  his  declaration  until 
his  nervous  misgivings  about  his  important  feature 
of  his  entertainment  had  been  set  at  rest  Never- 
theless Mrs.  Tavistock  decided  that  she  would 
take  no  risk.  She  seized  the  favourable  op- 
portunity to  slip  away  upstairs.  When  the  Dip- 
pers had  duly  descended  and  performed  to  their  fas- 
tidious patron's  satisfaction,  she  might,  in  the  last 
resort,  plead  a  headache  and  retire  early.  She  was 
wondering  whether  Lord  Mellingham  would,  in  this 
case,  ring  her  up  in  her  bedroom  and  claim  her  hand 
by  telephone;  when  her  thoughts  were  distracted  by 
the  appearance  of  Minnie  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"What  are  you  looking  so  excited  about,  Minnie?" 

"Oh,  madam.  It's  very  queer.  The  dancing  gen- 
tleman arrived  late  and  dressed  himself  in  his  lord- 
ship's room." 

"I  know.  So  does  his  lordship.  It's  all  quite 
right." 

"Oh,  but,  madam,  it  is  not,  begging  your  pardon. 
The  dancing  gentleman  has  now  gone  along  the  pas- 


154  THE  DIPPERS 

sage  to  the  Old  Bedroom  where  the  dancing  lady  is, 
and  I  happen  to  know  that  he  is  not  the  dancing 
lady's  husband  at  all." 

"Indeed,  I  think  you  should  be  careful  what  you 
say,  Minnie.  I  cannot  imagine  how  you  can  possess 
any  knowledge  on  the  subject,  and,  in  any  case  it 
is  hardly  our  place  to  interfere  in  matters  of  that 
sort.  These  rather  artistic  people  are  often  a  little 
bit  careless  about  their  relationships,  and " 

"Oh,  but,  madam,  excuse  me  speaking,  but  the 
dancing  gentleman  who  came  and  dressed  up  in  his 
lordship's  clothes  in  his  lordship's  room,  and  is  now 
with  the  dancing  lady  in  the  Old  Bedroom,  is  not 
really  a  dancing  gentleman  at  all." 

"Yes,  yes,  Minnie.  He  is  Mr.  Dipper,  an  Ameri- 
can gentleman,  and  I  have  every  reason  to  believe 
that  the  lady  is  his  wife.  In  any  case  they  seem 
quite  happy  about  it,  and  I  don't  think  we  need  worry 
ourselves." 

"Oh,  but,  madam,  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  do 
assure  you — I  saw  the  gentleman  once  or  twice  quite 
close  and  oh,  I  do  assure  you,  madam,  I  know  him. 
He  is  a  gentleman  who  comes  to  visit  Miss  Starch- 
field  frequent,  and  I  have  seen  him  there." 

"Really  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,  Minnie,  but 
if  it  comes  to  that  I  fail  to  see  why  he  should  not 
visit  Miss  Starchfield  and  be  a  dancing  gentleman  at 
the  same  time." 


THE  DIPPERS  155 

"Oh,  madam,  do  you  know  Miss  Starchfield?" 

"No,  but " 

"Oh,  madam "  And  Minnie  shook  her  head 

vigorously.  Evidently  the  improbability  of  Miss 
Starchfield  of  Coombe  Puddy  conducting  a  series  of 
secret  assignations  with  an  American  dancing  gentle- 
man was  beyond  verbal  expression. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  suddenly  displayed  greater  inter- 
est. 

"Miss  Starchfield?  Oh,  you  were  in  Miss  Starch- 
field's  service,  Minnie?" 

"In  and  out,  madam,"  replied  Minnie. 

"Who  was  the  gentleman  you  speak  of?" 

"You  mean  the  gentleman  in  the  Old  Bedroom 
with  the  dancing  lady?" 

"No — well,  I  cannot  believe  you  are  right  about 
that  Minnie." 

"Oh,  madam  I  am  right,  I  assure  you.  I  know 
the  gentleman  too  well  to  mistake  him — not  only 
in  his  looks  but  in  his  little  ways  besides.  This! 
gentleman  is  the  same  one.  I  have  heard  tell  in 
books  and  that  of  a  fatal  likeness,  but,  even  if  there 
was  another  gentleman  who  was  so  like  him  in  the 
face  that  you  couldn't  tell  the  difference,  I  should 
know  him  by  his  little  ways." 

"Why  what  did  he  do?"  asked  Mrs.  Taviltock 
with  slightly  increased  intensity. 

"He  comes  out  from  seeing  the  dancing  lady  in 


156  THE  DIPPERS 

the  Old  Bedroom  and  goes  for  to  dress  himself  in 
his  lordship's.  But  instead  of  going  straight  to  his 
lordship's  room  he  goes  half-way  downstairs,  as 
though  forgetful  of  what  he  was  thinking  about. 
Then  he  remembers  himself  and  walks  back,  looking 
terrible  upset.  Besides  which,  I  heard  his  voice, 
which  I  also  know  quite  familiar,  for  he  spoke  to 
himself  when  he  stopped  and  turned  back.  'Oh 
God!'  he  says." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  listened  with  grave  attention. 
Minnie's  word-portrait  certainly  resembled  that 
friend  of  Miss  Starchfield's  whom  she  had  in  mind. 

"Mr.  Talboyes?"  she  asked  briefly. 

"Oh,  madam,  the  very  same.  You  know  about 
it  then?"  cried  Minnie,  with  a  frown  of  perplexity 
over  this  complication. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  made  no  reply.  She  sat  on  the 
edge  of  her  dressing-table,  and  directed  a  long  glance 
of  conjecture  towards  the  passage  from  which  she 
had  just  entered  the  room.  Her  reflections  did  not 
appear  to  be  altogether  void  of  amusement.  Then 
she  turned  again  to  Minnie  with  a  little  shrug. 

"Madam,"  said  the  latter,  feeling  that  this  action 
implied  a  challenge,  "I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  can 
only  tell  you  what  I  have  seen  with  my  own  eyes 
and  can  swear  if  called  upon  to  do  so.  And  what  I 
say  is — with  all  respect  and  not  wishful  in  any  way 
to  concern  myself  in  matters  which  do  not  concern 


THE  DIPPERS  157. 

me,  but  which  I  am  so  surprised  at  that  I  cannot  but 
help  make  mention  of  to  you — the  gentleman  who 
come  and  dressed  in  the  way  I  have  told  you  and  is 
at  this  moment  in  that  Old  Bedroom  with  that  danc- 
ing lady  is  Mr.  Talboyes,  the  gentleman  who,  and  I 
ought  to  know,  seeing  that  three  times  altogether 
while  in  her  service  it  so  happened,  come  down  to 
visit  Miss  Starchfield  o'  Coombe  Puddy." 

This  announcement  was  robbed  of  the  dramatic 
force  intended  by  its  author,  owing  to  Minnie's  in- 
herent deficiency  in  breathing  power.  Its  conclusion 
found  her  out  of  action  for  some  minutes.  Mrs. 
Tavistock  rose  from  her  uncomfortable  seat  and 
moved  across  to  the  doorway,  where  she  again  paused 
in  incredulous  deliberation.  Could  the  girl  be  right? 
The  situation  seemed  to  possess  the  properties  of  a 
dream.  Yet  this  was  just  such  a  strait  as  poor  dear 
Henry  might  unwittingly  have  steered  into.  Had  he, 
while  on  a  visit  to  Coombe  Puddy,  by  some  means 
learnt  that  she,  his  truest  friend  and  acknowledged 
confessor,  was  near  at  hand,  and  have  come  blun- 
dering out  to  see  her,  only  to  find  himself  entrapped 
in  the  meshes  of  some  misunderstanding  which  he 
lacked  the  lucidity  to  disentangle?  Had  he  been 
mistaken  for  the  missing  dancer  and  admitted  as 
Hank  Dipper?  This  could  have  been  effected  only 
with  his  own  knowledge  and  consent,  or  why  should 
he  agree  to  don  Lord  Mellingham's  dress  suit  and 


158  THE  DIPPERS 

attempt  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  doubtless  as- 
tonished Mrs.  Dipper?  Surely  he  need  only  have 
rung  the  bell  and  have  asked  in  a  rational  manner  to 
be  allowed  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Tavistock.  Why  should 
he  resort  to»such  strange  measures,  which,  she  knew, 
must  be  particularly  irksome  to  him? 

Then  a  more  reasonable  explanation  dawned  upon 
her.  He  had  come,  in  ignorance  of  her  presence  in 
the  house,  with  news  of  the  missing  Dipper.  Ah,  that 
was  more  likely.  After  all,  she  had  not  told  him  that 
she  was  going  to  stay  at  Mellingham.  She  might 
have  made  some  casual  reference  to  her  efforts  to 
propitiate  the  wealthy  uncle  whom  they  had  dis- 
covered for  Helen,  but  that  was  all.  At  Coombe 
Puddy  Henry  had  learnt  bad  news  of  Dipper,  and  in 
his  usual  charming  way,  had  consented  to  come  and 
break  it  to  the  forsaken  lady  languishing  in  the  Old 
Bedroom  of  the  Hall.  But  why  in  the  name  of  for- 
tune should  he  have  announced  himself  as  Dipper? 
As  a  means  of  breaking  it  gently  perhaps.  He  must 
have  succeeded  in  breaking  it  very  gently  if  the 
stricken  wife  had  expressed  a  desire  that  he  should 
put  on  a  dress  suit  and  rejoin  her  in  the  bedroom. 
Perhaps  after  all  Minnie  had  been  the  victim  of  some 
grotesque  illusion,  and  yet  Mrs.  Tavistock  knew  and 
understood  Henry  Talboyes,  and — somehow  this 
savoured  of  Henry. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  slipped  quietly  down  the  passage 


THE  DIPPERS  159 

into  Lord  Mellingham's  dressing-room.  With  char- 
acteristic lack  of  foresight  Talboyes  had  left  his  dis- 
carded garments  in  a  state  of  disorder  which  only 
the  clothes  shed  by  a  man  in  a  hurry  can  assume. 
Mrs.  Tavistock  picked  a  coloured  linen  shirt  off  the 
floor  and  quickly  examined  the  regions  inside  the 
collar.  Then  she  folded  all  the  clothes  together  and 
bore  them  back  to  her  bedroom.  By  skilful  man- 
agement she  included  the  boots  in  the  load.  Not  for 
the  first  time  the  guardian  angel  of  Henry  Talboyes 
had  her  hands  full. 

Her  brows  were  knitted  in  perplexity,  but  a  little 
smile  played  upon  her  lips — a  smile  which  betokened 
nothing  but  a  desire  to  aid,  as  so  often  before  she  had 
aided,  the  mismanaging,  entangled  friend,  whom  cir- 
cumstances had  thrust  so  inexplicably  into  the  un- 
plumbed  mysteries  of  the  Old  Bedroom. 

Ladies,  as  you  lift  your  eyes  from  the  page,  and 
glance  across  the  fireplace  at  the  well-trained  com- 
panion of  your  hearth,  orderly  in  habit  and  punctili- 
ous in  routine,  can  you  believe  it  possible  that  the 
love  of  woman  should  extend  to  a  person  of  so 
egregious  a  nature  that  irregularity  became  almost 
a  virtue  in  him,  even  when  it  was  likely  to  be  at- 
tended by  some  dire  and  intricate  complications?  Ah, 
you  know  it  is  so.  You  know  that  you  are  your- 
selves prepared  to  prove  it  so.  You  even  regret 
perhaps  in  your  hearts  that  the  paragon  in  the  op- 


160  THE  DIPPERS 

posite  chair  so  seldom  provides  you  with  an  oppor- 
tunity for  wearing  the  romantic  vestments  of  the 
ministering  angel.  But  here  was  the  other  extreme — 
a  man  whose  light  heart  was  the  toy  of  every  current 
of  fortuitous  circumstance.  He  would  not  be  sitting 
in  that  chair  at  the  other  end  of  the  hearthrug.  He 
would  have  missed  his  train,  or  have  been  decoyed 
on  his  way  home  into  some  vague  mission  of  benevo- 
lence, possibly,  indeed  probably,  connected  with  a 
lady  in  distress. 

Such  a  man  may  be  lovable,  but  it  is  usually  more 
convenient  to  love  him  in  the  abstract.  Yet  close 
at  hand,  as  he  engaged  in  his  preposterous  intrigue 
on  behalf  of  Pauline  Dipper,  was  a  woman  who 
loved  him  with  all  her  heart — loved  him  to  the  extent 
of  having  made  a  definite  promise  to  soothe  his 
troubled  spirit  into  a  restful  enjoyment  of  that  com- 
fort which  only  her  watchful  care  could  give.  And 
if  Mrs.  Tavistock  was  fully  aware  that  this  little 
emergency,  whatever  it  entailed  besides  the  strange 
formality  of  dressing  up  in  somebody  else's  dress 
clothes,  might  well  have  overtaken  Henry  after,  in- 
stead of  before,  his  marriage,  yet  the  doubt  in  her 
eyes  was  only  the  doubt  as  to  how  he  had  got  into  this 
scrape,  the  smile  on  her  lips  was  a  smile  of  gratifica- 
tion at  her  ability  to  partake  and  assist. 

"Minnie!" 

There  was  no  need  to  call.     Minnie  was  at  the 


THE  DIPPERS  161 

doorway  of  Mrs.  Tavistock's  room.  She  gazed  at 
the  accumulation  of  garments  in  that  lady's  hands 
with  an  expression  of  deep  mistrust.  Mrs.  Tavi- 
stock  passed  her  and  entered  the  room,  laid  the  coat, 
the  trousers  and  the  shirt  of  Henry  Talboyes  fondly 
on  the  bed. 

"Minnie,"  she  repeated.  The  servant  stood  be- 
fore her.  The  look  which  was  directed  towards  her 
robbed  the  simple  country  girl  of  any  thought  of 
antagonism.  It  was  the  look  of  a  trusting  con- 
spirator. "I  see  it  is  no  use  trying  to  deceive  you, 
Minnie.  But  I  wonder  whether  I  can  trust  you  to 
keep  a  secret." 

Minnie  assented,  deeply  interested. 

"It  is  not  for  my  sake — except  indirectly,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Tavistock.  "It  is  Mr.  Talboyes'  secret 
and  I  keep  it  because  I  am  a  friend  of  his.  You 
must  keep  it,  Minnie,  because  you  are  a  friend  of 
mine." 

"Whatsis  it?"  asked  the  practical  Minnie,  who 
had  a  vision  of  being  admitted  into  the  machinations 
of  a  gang  of  crooks. 

"I  want  you  to  tell  nobody  that  Mr.  Talboyes  is 
really  Mr.  Dipper." 

"But  is  he?    Oh,  madam,  is  he?" 

"Well,  you  have  seen  for  yourself.  But  nobody 
knows  that  Mr.  Talboyes  dances  for  a  profession. 
It  is  not  a  thing  that  a  man  in  his  position  can  be 


1 62  THE  DIPPERS 

expected  to  be  proud  of.  If  some  of  his  clienfs 
knew  about  it  they  would  not  be  so  anxious  to  ac- 
knowledge him  as  their  solicitor.  Miss  Starchfield, 
for  instance — if  Miss  Starchfield  could  see  him 


now- 


"In  that  Old  Bedroom  with  the  dancing  lady? 
No,  indeed.  Oh,  madam,  is  she  his  wife?" 

"No,  Minnie,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock,  "she  is  not. 
These  professional  people  often  appear  together  as 
man  and  wife  when  they  are  not  so.  It  is  easier 
for  them  to  get  engagements  or  something,  I  believe. 
But  that  lady  is  not  Mr.  Talboyes'  wife.  That  is 
why  I  have  brought  his  clothes  along  to  this  room. 
He  may  have  to  sleep  here." 

"Oh,  madam,  is  he  your  wife — I  mean  you  his?" 

"No,  no,  Minnie.  I  shall  sleep  elsewhere,  of 
course." 

"Oh,  where?" 

"I  don't  know  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock  gravely. 
"Now  mind  you  don't  say  a  word  about  all  this  to 
anyone.  Perhaps  Mr.  Talboyes  won't  sleep  any- 
where. I  shall  have  to  wait  and  see  what  is  going 
to  happen.  I  am  not  quite  sure  what  Mr.  Talboyes' 
intentions  are." 

"I  wonder  whether  he  is,"  she  added  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

NE  makes  such  rash  promises  when  women 
weep." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  did  not  reply.  In  the 
Old  Bedroom  she  had  listened  to  an  epitome  of  the 
circumstances  under  which  Henry  Talboyes  had 
found  a  welcome  at  the  Hall.  She  had  made  little 
comment.  She  understood  Henry.  Of  his  subse- 
quent pledge  to  Mrs.  Dipper  the  above  was  the  first 
word  of  explanation  he  had  attempted;  and  this 
was  uttered  sotto  voce,  as  the  three  were  descending 
the  staircase  for  the  fulfilment  of  that  awful  rite 
to  which  he  stood  committed. 

That  situation  in  the  Old  Bedroom  would  have 
seemed  to  contain  the  elements  for  one  of  those 
familiar  and  delectable  "big  scenes"  of  the  contem- 
porary stage,  wherein  the  weaker  vessel  is  unex- 
pectedly shadowed  by  the  stronger  and  caught  in  the 
third  act.  Here  was  the  man  to  stammer  vain  ex- 
postulation and  empty  excuse;  the  mistress  to  shrink 
guiltily  from  his  embrace  and  retire  to  her  strong- 
hold of  the  divan,  with  the  light  of  defiance  in  her 

163 


1 64  THE  DIPPERS 

dark  eyes;  the  consort,  straight-backed,  authorita- 
tive and  serenely  sarcastic.  Perhaps  the  fact  that 
Henry  Talboyes  was  implicated  rendered  the  scene 
suggestive  of  French  farce  rather  than  of  British 
drama.  But  the  sequence  is  usually  analogous  and 
only  a  matter  of  treatment.  In  farce  the  out- 
raged lady  sends  for  the  maitre  -d' hotel,  who 
waves  his  arms  and  smashes  a  lamp-shade ;  in  the 
drama  she  sends  for  her  solicitor. 

In  this  case,  however,  the  dramatic  possibilities 
were  sadly  neglected.  Long  before  the  mutual  ex- 
planations had  been  completed  the  dark  watcher  on 
the  divan  realized,  with  some  astonishment,  that  the 
smile  on  the  mysterious  intruder's  face  was  a  smile 
not  of  sarcasm  but  of  succour;  and  before  three  min- 
utes had  passed  Pauline  arose  not  to  confront  an 
interloper  but  to  greet  an  ally.  Nor  had  Talboyes 
for  a  moment  assumed  the  role  of  the  plausible  dupe. 
He  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  Mrs.  Tavistock 
would  endorse  his  policy  and  approve  his  motives. 
Her  presence,  indeed,  seemed  to  act  as  a  sedative  to 
his  nerves,  for  he  recounted  his  experiences  with 
a  precision  and  accuracy  which  he  seldom  dis- 
played. 

If  he  thought,  however,  that  the  lady's  welcome 
appearance  heralded  his  release  from  further  re- 
sponsibility he  was  mistaken.  Mrs.  Tavistock  re- 
quested a  further  rehearsal,  and  Henry  accordingly 


THE  DIPPERS  165 

repeated  his  swaying,  his  lumbering,  his  swinging 
and  his  knee-gripping,  all  of  which  he  accom- 
panied with  a  running  commentary  of  appeal  to  the 
amused  supervisor.  The  latter  then  quickly  formu- 
lated a  preliminary  plan  of  action,  which  she  com- 
municated to  Pauline,  who  favoured  it,  and  to  Henry, 
who  did  not.  He  reviewed  its  shortcomings  at  great 
length  and  with  growing  apprehension.  The  tele- 
phone bell  alone  recalled  him  to  a  rather  involved 
sense  of  duty.  They  proceeded  downstairs,  watched 
with  breathless  interest  by  the  fourth  conspirator 
from  a  surreptitious  point  of  vantage. 

A  dance  was  in  progress  as  they  descended,  and 
the  inner  hall  was  almost  deserted.  Lord  Melling- 
ham  was  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  frown- 
ing impatiently  upwards;  while  Mr.  Harris  was  en- 
gaged in  sampling  the  contents  of  a  cake-stand  a 
short  distance  away.  His  lordship's  face  assumed 
a  pleasanter  expression  as  Mrs.  Tavistock  and  her 
followers  hove  in  sight. 

"Here  are  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dipper,"  she  said. 

"My  dear  lady — how  can  I — a  positive  hostess !" 
murmured  the  peer. 

Mr.  Harris  hastily  consumed  two  outstanding  sam- 
ples and  came  forward,  rather  obviously  attracted 
by  Mrs.  Dipper's  gown. 

Lord  Mellingham  inclined  his  head  slightly  at 
the  melancholy  figure  of  the  male  dancer. 


1 66  THE  DIPPERS 

"I  was  beginning  to  fear  that  you  had  failed  us, 
Mr.  Dipper." 
^Talboyes  fidgeted  nervously. 

"Yes,  I — I — I  missed  your  train,  my  lord- 
ship— your  lord — my  train,  your  lord,"  he  stam- 
mered. 

"I  am  grieved  to  hear  that  you  lost  your  be- 
longings,'r  continued  Lord  Mellingham. 

"Yes,"  interposed  Pauline,  who  observed  that 
Talboyes  was  looking  exactly  like  a  schoolboy  in  the 
presence  of  the  headmaster,  and  decided  to  do  most 
of  the  talking.  "It  was  really  that  which  made  us 
so  late  in  coming  down." 

"Ah,  b'h'rmm.  Well,  you  found  all  you  required 
in  my  wardrobe,  I  trust?"  said  his  lordship  with  some 
condescension. 

"Oh,  more,  much  more,"  answered  Talboyes  po- 
litely. "And  it  was  awfully  course  of  your  lordship 
of  kind — kind  of  course.  I  only  wish  they  were  a 
bit  smaller." 

"They  are  a  bit  big,"  commented  Mr.  Harris. 

"I  must  say  I  think  you  were  fortunate  in  being 
provided  so  readily  with  them,"  said  Lord  Melling- 
ham disdainfully. 

"Oh,  we're  very  grateful  to  you,"  put  in  Pauline. 
"And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  my  husband's  appearance 
in  them  has  given  us  rather  a  happy  idea.  As  they 
make  him  look  so  grotesque " 


THE  DIPPERS  167 

"Grotesque !  Those  clothes  were  cut  by  London's 
premier  tailor." 

"I'm  not  running  the  clothes  down,"  rejoined 
Pauline.  "Anyone  who  knows  anything  about 
clothes  can  see  that  they  are  a  perfectly  good,  slap-up, 
fashionable  outfit.  But  he's  half  a  size  too  small 
for  them  and  looks  rather  an  ass,  doesn't  he?" 

"I  am  not  prepared  to  state  how  far  I  consider 
the  clothes  are  to  blame  for  that,"  replied  Lord 
/Mellingham,  with  a  severe  glance  at  Talboyes. 

"Well,  it  all  suits  our  purpose,"  said  Pauline 
cheerfully,  "because  we  are  going  to  give  you  the 
first  performance  of  a  new  dance  just  invented  by 
my  husband.  It's  supposed  to  be  a  semi-barbaric 
affair,  and  so,  for  that  dance  at  any  rate,  his  appear- 
ance will  be  well  in  keeping." 

"Indeed?"  said  his  lordship  without  enthusiasm. 

"Isn't  it  splendid?"  interposed  the  calm  voice  of 
Mrs.  Tavistock.  "I  have  just  been  hearing  about 
it.  It  is  supposed  to  represent  a  certain  kind  of 
dance  performed  by  the  primitive  Esquimaux.  Just 
think.  It  may  make  a  hit  in  London,  and  we  shall 
have  been  the  first  people  to  have  seen  it — at  your 
house-party,  Lord  Mellingham." 

"True,  true,  dear  lady,"  said  the  mollified  peer, 
smiling  upon  Mrs.  Tavistock  in  a  manner  which 
made  Henry  Talboyes  clench  his  fist  beneath  the 
over-lapping  sleeve. 


1 68  THE  DIPPERS 

"May  I  also  suggest  that  this  hall  is  used  as  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Dipper's  green-room  for  the  time  being?" 
continued  Mrs.  Tavistock.  "They  can  make  their 
final  arrangements  here,  if  you  will  see  that  people 
don't  come  and  interrupt  them." 

"But,  dear  me,  I  thought  their  final  arrangements 
were  made." 

"They  are,"  said  Pauline.  "But  we  should  like 
to  have  somewhere  to  wait  until  you  are  ready  for 
us.  And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  could  do  with  another 
turn  or  two  at  this  Esquimaux'  Lumber.  My  hus- 
band has  got  the  knack  of  it  wonderfully,  but  it's 
rather  out  of  my  line,  and  we  want  to  do  ourselves 
justice." 

Lord  Mellingham  sighed  deeply  and  sought  Mrs. 
Tavistock's  eye  for  guidance. 

"I  don't  see  that  there's  any  desperate  hurry 
for  them,"  said  the  latter.  "Everybody  seems  to 
be  enjoying  themselves  enormously  and  the  night  is 
yet  young."  She  glanced  at  the  hall  clock  as  she 
spoke  and  decided  not  to  press  this  point. 

"That's  right,  there's  no  panic.  Don't  overexcite 
yourself,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Harris,  for  reasons  of 
his  own. 

"But,  my  dear  lady,  can  I  very  well  request  my 
guests  not  to  pass  to  and  fro  the  ballroom  via  my 
Armorial  Hall?"  asked  the  perplexed  host. 

"Well  then,  may  they  use  your  study?    They  must 


THE  DIPPERS  169 

have  somewhere  to  wait.  I'll  stay  and  see  that  they 
have  all  they  want.  Then  I  can  send  you  word 
when  everything  is  prepared,  and  you  can  have  the 
floor  cleared  for  their  dance." 

"That's  the  ticket.  I'll  stay  and  lend  a  'and  too," 
said  Mr.  Harris,  watching  Mrs.  Dipper  critically 
with  half-closed  eyes. 

Lord  Mellingham  hesitated  and,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Tavistock,  engaged  that  lady  in  a  confidential  argu- 
ment, of  which  the  words  "sacrifice  yourself"  and 
"mountebanks"  were  alone  audible. 

"Oh,  but  I  like  to,"  she  replied  aloud.  "I  don't 
want  to  dance  the  whole  evening.  Besides,  I  do  so 
want  this  part  of  your  entertainment  to  be  a  suc- 
cess." 

She  had  led  him  to  the  far  end  of  the  hall;  and 
here  she  left  him  rather  summarily  and  returned  to- 
wards her  proteges.  Lord  Mellingham,  with  an 
air  of  impatient  disappointment,  brushed  aside  the 
curtain  which  had  been  hung  across  the  doorway  of 
the  ballroom  and  again  lent  his  presiding  presence  to 
that  scene  of  revelry. 

It  was  to  Mr.  Harris  that  Mrs.  Tavistock  next 
imparted  a  brief  whisper. 

"Please  do  anything  you  can  to  soothe  Mrs.  Dip- 
per's nerves.  She  is  awfully  upset  about  her  husband 
being  so  late  and  unprepared.  Perhaps  a  few  min- 
utes in  the  fresh  air " 


170  THE  DIPPERS 

"Righto,  Mrs.  Tavistock,"  replied  Mr.  Harris. 
"I'll  see  to  that.  Really,  Mrs.  Dipper,  you  ought  to 
eome  and  have  a  look  at  the  grounds  from  the  ter- 
race. It's  a  peach  of  a  night  and  you  don't  want 
to  have  to  wait  in  a  stuffy  room." 

Pauline  glanced  at  Mrs.  Tavistock  and  accepted 
with  a  quick  smile.  Mrs.  Tavistock  watched  her 
departure  with  the  delighted  Harris,  and,  turning, 
led  her  Henry  to  the  sanctuary  of  the  study. 

On  the  way  he  paused  and,  peering  round  the  cur- 
tain, inspected  the  scene  of  his  impending  ordeal. 
As  he  followed  Mrs.  Tavistock,  he  attempted  to 
ease  the  situation  with  a  futile  exhibition  of  bravado. 

"Don't  worry,  Stella,"  he  said.  "I  may  be  able 
to  carry  it  off.  Anyhow,  I'm  better  than  most  of 
those  flat-footed  specimens.  Not  one  of  them  has 
any  idea  of  how  to  sway  from  the  hip,  and  I  haven't 
seen  a  decent  lumberer  among  the  lot." 

"Hush,"  she  replied.  "Come  and  sit  down  here 
quietly  with  me  for  a  minute  or  two." 

They  entered  the  st^dy  together.  It  was  a  room 
well  suited  to  the  furnishing  of  Lord  Mellingham's 
private  requirements.  From  the  miniature  telephone 
exchange  to  the  gigantic  Chesterfield,  on  which  the 
two  seated  themselves,  everything  went  to  prove  that 
solid  comfort  is  the  first  essential  to  the  successful 
transaction  of  a  nobleman's  private  affairs. 

"Well,  Henry." 


THE  DIPPERS 


"Well." 

"You  surpass  yourself,  Henry.  You've  had  some 
escapades  in  your  time,  but  -  " 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"Oh,  don't  be  snubby.  I  know  because  you've 
generally  come  to  me  to  be  helped  out  of 
them." 

"Well,  you  know  that  I  never  undertook  this  ap- 
palling business  to  please  myself." 

"I  know.  It  was  really  due  to  your  mistake  in 
not  grasping  that  Mrs.  Dipper  was  a  dancer.  But 
wasn't  it  rather  unnecessary  to  offer  to  impersonate 
her  husband  at  all?" 

Talboyes  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  did  not 
meet  her  gentle  eyes.  He  drew  a  little  pattern  on 
the  soft  carpet  with  the  toe  of  Lord  Mellingham's 
ample  shoe  and  muttered  something  about  his  tender 
heart. 

"I  know  you  have  a  tender  heart,  dear  Henry," 
said  Mrs.  Tavistock  wistfully.  "But  a  man  who 
takes  a  tender  heart  to  a  jazz  party  is  like  a  mission- 
ary who  takes  a  tender  body  to  the  Cannibal  Islands. 
He's  simply  asking  to  get  bitten." 

"If  I  were  doing  this  to  please  myself,  I  —  I 
wouldn't  do  it,"  he  protested. 

"Of  course,  I  can  see  that  Mrs.  Dipper  is  a  very 
taking  woman  -  " 

"I  can't.     I  think  she's  a  singularly  unattractive 


172  THE  DIPPERS 

person,  but  I  didn't  think  that  ought  to  sway  me 
against  her." 

"Oh,  Henry." 

"It's  quite  true,"  continued  Talboyes  in  a  tone  of 
earnest  supplication.  "When  you  appeared  on  the 
scene  I  had  already  decided  to  chuck  the  whole  thing 
and  face  the  consequences.  I  was  very  surprised  to 
find  that  you  wanted  me  to  go  through  with  it.  I 
don't  mind  either  way,  or  rather  I  mind  a  good  deal 
both  ways.  I  can't  very  well  beard  the  furious  old 
lord  at  this  stage,  especially  now  that  I  am  wearing 
his  trousers.  It  was  you  who  decided  that  I  was 
to  test  his  credulity  as  an  Esquimaux.  Very  well 
then,  if  you  desire  me  to  be  Hank,  I  will  be  Hank. 
I  don't  think  there's  any  very  material  difficulty 
about  it.  Hank  seems  to  me  to  have  one  of  the 
softest  jobs  in  the  country.  I  simply  rely  on  your 
judgment." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  watched  his  face  for  a  moment  in 
meditative  silence.  Then  she  said: 

"You  are  not  the  only  person  who  has  got  into 
trouble  in  this  house  through  trying  to  do  some  one 
a  good  turn.  There  are  complications  in  the  situa- 
tion which  you  don't  realize." 

"Well,  if  there's  anything  more  complicated  than 
gripping  a  young  woman  under  the  knees  and  spin- 
ning, I  throw  my  hand  in." 

"I  want  to  get  away  from  this  house  as  quickly 


THE  DIPPERS  173 

and  as  unostentatiously  as  possible,"  said  Mrs. 
Tavistock. 

"You  do  too?  Well,  I'm  not  surprised  to  hear 
that,  Stella.  It  certainly  doesn't  seem  our  style  of 
house.  My  original  idea  in  coming  to  it  was  to  get 
away  from  it  as  soon  as  possible,  too,  and  if  I'd 
known  what  it  was  like " 

She  interposed  with  a  gentle  pressure  of  her  hand 
on  his  arm. 

"Listen,  Henry.  I  am  already  being  gossiped 
about  by  everybody  in  this  place.  .  It's  my  own 
fault;  I  should  never  have  come.  They  all  think  I 
am  going  to  marry  Lord  Mellingham " 

"What?"  cried  Talboyes.  "How  on  earth  can 
they  think  that?" 

"So  I  want  to  lie  low  and  slip  away  tomorrow 
morning,  before  any  harm  is  done.  Now  you  see, 
my  dear  Henry,  if  we  were  to  disclose  that  my 
fiance  was  in  the  house  all  the  time  in  the  character 
of  Mr.  Dipper  it  could  hardly  fail  to  lead  to  a  great 
deal  of  scandal.  As  it  is,  they  will  probably  say  that 
I  have  treated  Lord  Mellingham  in  a  very  ungen- 
erous way,  though  Heaven  knows  I  have  tried  not  to; 
but,  if  this  little  affair  of  ours  came  to  be  known, 
poor  Lord  Mellingham,  who  is  very  rich  and  vulgar, 
but  has  treated  me  with  nothing  but  kindness,  would 
never  be  allowed  to  forget  it;  and  I  should  always 
be  the  woman  who  went  out  of  her  way  to  insult 


1 74  THE  DIPPERS 

him.  We  should  find  our  way  into  the  'Things  we 
want  to  know'  columns,  and  there  would  be  snap- 
shots of  our  wedding  in  the  illustrated  dailies  en- 
titled 'Sequel  to  the  Mellingham  Affair:  Practical 
Jokers  Wed.'  So  you  see  it's  really  for  my  sake 
that  I  want  you  to  do  your  best,  and  not  to  be  found 
out.  None  of  these  people  will  ever  see  Hank  and 
Pauline  Dipper  again  after  to-night.  In  the  morn- 
ing we  can  take  our  respective  departures  and  meet 
somewhere  outside.  Now  you  see  what  I'm  getting 
at." 

"Yes  I  see,"  said  Talboyes,  nodding  a  great  many 
times  and  pulling  contemplatively  at  his  moustache. 
"But  I  tell  you  what,  Stella,  there's  one  rather  serious 
drawback,  and  that  is  that  I  certainly  shan't  be  able 
to  dance  at  these  people  for  many  minutes  before 
they  find  out  that  I'm  an  absolute  mug  at  the  game." 

"There  I  think  you  are  wrong,  Henry.  You'll 
be  all  right  for  the  first  dance — you're  simply  ex- 
pected to  lumber  about  in  a  clumsy  sort  of  way; 
and,  once  the  audience  has  got  the  idea  that  you  are 
an  expert,  they'll  think  anything  you  do  is  correct. 
The  chief  point  in  favour  of  Advanced  Art  in  any 
form  is  that  the  worse  you  do  it  the  cleverer  you 
are  considered." 

Talboyes  rose  and  paced  the  room  nervously. 
Until  this  moment  he  had  allowed  his  mind  to  dwell 
only  upon  a  hazy  vision  of  his  appearance  in  the  ball- 


THE  DIPPERS  175 

room.  He  now  began  to  feel  as  a  nervous  cricketer 
feels  as  he  approaches  the  wicket  and  finds  himself 
the  central  figure  of  the  scene  which  he  has  been 
dreamily  witnessing  from  the  flattering  security  of 
the  pavilion. 

"What  about  borrowing  a  car  from  the  old  lord 
and  making  a  bolt  for  it?"  he  asked.  "After  all, 
that's  what  I  came  here  for,  and  your  being  here, 
and  also  in  difficulties,  seems  rather  to  point  to  the 
advisability  of  flight." 

"Unfortunately,"  replied  Mrs.  Tavistock,  "I'm 
not  the  only  woman  you  have  promised  to  help  this 
evening." 

"Stella,  I — I'm  awfully  sorry  about  that,  but  you 
know " 

Mrs.  Tavistock  rose  and  caressed  him  consol- 
ingly- 

"I  understand,  dear  Henry;  only  I  do  trust  that 

these  little  flutters  of  yours  are  only  bachelor  habits." 
"Habits  ?    Dash  it,  Stella,  I've  never  been  so  badly 

involved  as  this  before." 

"Well,  try  and  brave  it  out  and  all  will  be  well." 
"I'll  do  my  best,"  he  replied  humbly.     "You're 

not  going  to  leave  me,  are  you,  Stella?" 

"I  must  for  a  few  minutes,"  she  answered  from 

the  doorway.     "There  are  one  or  two  little  affairs 

to  settle  about  what  is  going  to  happen  to  us  to-night. 

I  must  see  about  them." 


176  THE  DIPPERS 

"Going  to  happen  to  us  to-night?"  repeated  Tal- 
boyes  in  horror.  "Don't  say  you  are  going  to  spring 
any  more  awful  secrets  about  this  benighted  house 


on  me." 


me." 

"No,  everything  will  be  quite  all  right.  Leave 
it  to  me." 

"I  wish  I  could,"  said  Talboyes. 

"I'll  be  back  in  good  time  to  see  you  through  the 
Esquimaux  business." 

Talboyes  groaned  at  the  thought. 

"All  right,  Stella,"  he  said. 

And  she  slipped  from  the  room  with  aiparting  nod 
of  encouragement. 

Talboyes  was  not  destined  to  be  left  alone  for  long. 
It  was  Wattle  who  a  moment  later  discovered  him  in 
the  act  of  practising  elaborate  contortions  on  the 
hearthrug. 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  the  butler,  "but  the  'ead 
of  the  party  composing  the  band  desires  a  word  with 
you." 

"The  band?"  said  Talboyes  in  some  alarm. 
"They  don't  know  me,  do  they?" 

"That  is  the  point,  I  believe,"  said  Wattle.  "I 
think  he  wants  to  see  you  re  the  question  of  the  tunes 
you  desire  them  to  play  for  you." 

"Oh  I  don't  mind,"  said  Talboyes  accommodat- 
ingly. "Let's  see  now " 

"I  think  you'd  best  see  him,"  indicated  Wattle. 


THE  DIPPERS  177 

"Had  I?  All  right  then — in  here,  directly  that 
dance  is  over." 

"It  is  over  now,"  said  Wattle. 

That  the  English  are  not  a  musical  race  is  said 
to  have  been  proved  by  the  financial  statements  of 
more  than  one  impresario;  but  the  man  in  the  street, 
seconded  by  the  boy  in  the  street,  may  always  be  re- 
lied upon  to  gain  and  to  hand  on  some  intelligible 
imitation  of  the  melodies  in  vogue.  A  long-suffering 
few  still  pay  their  vows  to  a  loftier  muse,  immune 
from  the  ravages  of  rag-time.  A  small  minority,  by 
no  means  unenlightened  in  other  subjects,  are  lacking 
in  any  appreciation  of  music,  good  or  bad. 

Music  was  one  of  the  few  subjects  in  which  Tal- 
boyes  had  never  taken  the  smallest  interest.  He 
recognized  the  fact  that  music  could  be  scored  and 
read  by  a  process  similar  to  that  which  enthusiasts 
devoted  their  attentions  to  manuscripts  of  the  Chi- 
nese. He  himself  could  vaguely  repeat  a  few  airs. 
On  the  extensive  subject  of  music  in  general  he  was  a 
very  poor  authority  indeed.  He  was  now  called  upon 
to  interview  a  bandmaster;  to  bluff  him  into  suppos- 
ing that  he  was  dealing  with  an  expert  on  modern 
music  and  musical  instruments.  By  treating  this 
person  in  an  off-hand  and  superior  manner  he  might 
succeed  in  disguising  his  woeful  ignorance.  As  he 
braced  himself  for  the  ordeal  the  door  of  the  study 
was  flung  open  and  Talboyes  shrank  back  against  the 


i78  THE  DIPPERS 

mantelpiece  with  a  little  gasp  of  horrified  surprise. 

A  gigantic  negro,  clad  in  a  flamboyant  travesty  of 
fashionable  evening  dress,  and  displaying  a  long  line 
of  teeth  whiter  than  his  shirtfront,  swaggered  into 
the  room.  He  cocked  his  head  to  one  side  in  familiar 
salutation  of  Talboyes. 

"Oo,  Mr.  Dipp'r,"  he  began. 

"Who  the  dickens  are  you?" 

The  negro  showed  an  even  greater  expansion  of 
teeth. 

"I'm  de  guy  what  reg'lates  this  yer  coon  band," 
he  said. 

"Do  you  know  me?"  asked  Talboyes  suspiciously. 

"No  suh." 

Talboyes  drew  himself  up,  determined  to  assert 
an  air  of  authority. 

"Anyhow,  you're  the  bandmaster,  aren't  you?" 
he  said  carelessly. 

"Yep,"  was  the  reply.  "Yep,  I'm  the  big  noise 
of  this  partic'lar  wire  and  trap  combination."  And 
the  negro  grinned  yet  more  broadly  at  his  own  face- 
tious humour. 

The  puzzled  Talboyes  could  only  murmur  an 
interrogatory:  "Oh?" 

"I  guessed  I'd  better  get  a  hold  of  you,  Mr. 
Dipp'r,"  continued  the  savage,  "so  as  you  could 
opinion  jest  which  choones  you  was  strong  for." 

"Indeed?" 


THE  DIPPERS  179 

"Got  me?" 

"I  beg  your — what  do  you  say?" 

"Have  you  got  me?" 

"Got  you?"  There  seemed  to  be  no  question  that 
Talboyes  had  got  this  undesirable.  The  chief  con- 
cern was  what  to  do  with  him.  "I  understand,"  he 
said  with  an  effort,  "that  you  desire  to  find  out  from 
me  which  airs  your  orchestra  is  to  play  during  my — 
er — show.  Is  that  so?" 

"Yep." 

"I  suppose  you — you  hardly  care  to  select  any- 
thing at  random?" 

"No  suh." 

Talboyes  sighed. 

"H'm,  yes,  let's  see  now,"  he  said,  squaring  his 
shoulders  bravely.  "Of  course  the  more  one  knows 
about  music  the  harder  it  is  to  decide." 

"Sure,"  agreed  the  negro. 

"Yes,  I'm  quite  sure,"  continued  Talboyes,  glanc- 
ing at  him  severely.  "What — er — what  musical  in- 
struments have  you  brought  with  you?" 

"Why,  one  o'  them  oidinary  quoitettes,"  was  the 
reply. 

"Ye-es?"  said  Talboyes  more  encouragingly. 
"What  else?" 

The  negro  fidgeted.  He  had  a  notion  that  Mr. 
Dipper  was  trying  to  ridicule  him. 

"Why,  jest  the  usual  bunch  of  artists,"  he  said. 


i8o  THE  DIPPERS 

"Oh?     How  are  they— doing?" 

"Fine,"  said  the  negro.  "Say,  shall  I  bring  the 
boys  along  here,  and  then  we  can  all  get  a  hold  of 
this?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  so,"  said  Talboyes. 

The  negro  turned  towards  the  door. 

"I  guess  that'll  be  better,"  he  insisted.  "Then 
you  can  put  the  whole  bunch  wise  to  the 
dope."  % 

He  departed  hastily.  Talboyes  wiped  his  brow. 
He  hurried  to  the  doorway  and  directed  a  nervous 
glance  towards  the  direction  in  which  Mrs.  Dipper 
had  disappeared  with  Harris.  There  was  no  sign 
of  her.  Talboyes  took  a  few  steps  forward  and 
scanned  the  staircase.  No  guardian  angel  appeared. 
Talboyes  returned  dejectedly  to  the  study,  closely 
followed  by  his  former  interlocutor,  who  was  now 
accompanied  by  three  satellites.  Two  of  these  car- 
ried banjos  and  the  third  a  pair  of  drumsticks.  All 
grinned. 

"Now,  suh,"  said  the  leader,  "which  o'  them 
choones?" 

Talboyes  closed  the  door  and  marched  across  to 
the  fireplace,  his  hands  behind  him.  His  attitude 
was  intended  to  appear  Napoleonic.  He  turned  and 
faced  the  four  dark,  grinning  countenances,  and 
cleared  his  throat. 

"The  dance  I  intend  to  do  first,"  he  announced, 


THE  DIPPERS  181 

"requires  a  rather  peculiar  tune.  In  fact,  almost 
any  tune  will  do,  because — well,  no  tune  would  really 
do,  so  that  one  tune  will  really  do  as  well  as  any 
other." 

"Gee,"  said  the  leader,  "what  kind  o'  tempo  will 
this  be?" 

"If,"  continued  Talboyes,  ignoring  this  question, 
"you  will  play  one  of  your  loudest  tunes,  I  dare  say 
that  may  do  something  towards  distracting  attention 
from  the  dancing." 

"Hear  that,  boys?"  put  in  the  leader.  "We  ain't 
a  got  to  do  that  foity." 

"Now  suppose,"  said  Talboyes,  turning  to  the 
last  speaker,  "that  you  hum  a  tune.  Any  tune  will 
do.  Then  I  shall  be  able  to  say  whether  it  will— - 
er— do." 

"What  beat,  Mr.  Dipp'r,  what  tempo?" 

"Ah,  yes,  I  see — what  tempo?  Yes,  of  course. 
Well,  look  here,  I  tell  you  what.  I'll  hum  a  tune 
instead,  and  that  will  give  you  a  good  idea  of  the 
sort  of  thing  I  mean.  There's  a  tune  I  remember 
that  might  do;  let  me  see — it  goes  something  like 
this." 

The  negroes  craned  their  necks  and  listened  at- 
tentively. Talboyes,  waving  a  forefinger  gracefully 
to  and  fro,  commenced  a  laboured  and  unmusical 
rendering  of  a  forgotten  Victorian  ballad. 

-f/£tf — do    you    remember    the 


1 82  THE  DIPPERS 

thing? — dee-dee  deedee-dee — deedy-dee  deedy-dee 
deedy-deedy  dee." 

"Sounds  like  'Get  a  hunch'  to  me,"  volunteered 
one  of  the  banjo  players. 

"Fade,  Walter,  fade,"  replied  his  partner.  "That's 
'Some  Choosable  Kid,'  that  song  is." 

"It's  'Bundunna,'  "  said  the  negro  with  the  drum- 
sticks. 

Almost  immediately  the  whole  band  was  involved 
in  an  argument  of  the  most  verbose  and  disordered 
nature.  Talboyes,  overcome,  walked  to  the  farthest 
corner  of  the  room,  where  he  held  his  head  in  silence. 

The  leader  succeeded  in  restoring  order  only  by 
drowning  the  voices  of  his  zealous  confreres. 

"Cut  it  out!"  he  shouted.  "We  got  to  get  away 
back.  Say,  Digby,  pick  out  that  there  'Choosable 
Kid'  and  let  Mr.  Dipp'r  say  if  that's  the  goods. 
Pick  it  good  and  soft." 

The  second  banjoist  complied.  He  struck  a  few 
preliminary  chords  and  broke  into  a  lively  measure 
in  which  the  air  strove  vainly  to  assert  itself  above 
the  extravagances  of  accompaniment  with  which  the 
expert  embellished  his  performance.  To  make  mat- 
ters worse,  the  trap-drummer  felt  called  upon  to 
demonstrate  his  skill  with  the  sticks,  and  proceeded 
to  rattle  with  great  heartiness  on  the  edge  of  the 
table,  emphasizing  now  and  again  some  important 
note  or  equally  important  lapse  of  a  note  in  the 


THE  DIPPERS  183 

hidden  melody  with  a  well-timed  blow  at  an  ink- 
pot, a  brass  letter-weight  or  any  of  the  convenient 
articles  to  be  found  on  his  lordship's  study  table. 
Talboyes  expected  every  moment  to  see  the  figure 
of  the  outraged  host  appear  to  demand  an  explana- 
tion of  the  din.  The  last  straw  was  supplied  by  the 
leader,  who  became  so  carried  away  by  the  skill  of 
his  subordinates  that  he  began,  at  the  recognised 
time,  to  chant,  as  was  his  custom,  the  enigmatic 
words  of  the  chorus: 

"Gee,  you're  some  choosable  Kid,  I'm  goin'  to  choose  you 

to  be  mine — fine — 
Yer  got  that  choosable  style, 
Yer  got  that  cu'  lill  smile, 
So  meet  me  back  on  the  choo-choo  track " 

"No,  no,  no,"  interrupted  Talboyes,  coming  for- 
ward hastily  and  staying  the  enthusiasm  of  the  drum- 
mer with  a  decisive  hand.  "I  didn't — I  didn't  refer 
to  that  at  all."  He  turned  to  the  leader  with  a  frown 
of  annoyance.  "This  song  of  mine  was  in  English. 
I — I  can't  remember  anything  else  about  it,  but  it 
was  certainly  nothing  like  that.  Now  I  come  to 
think  of  it  I  believe  it  was  something  about  roses, 
but  it " 

"Roses?"  cried  the  leader,  showing  fresh  ani- 
mation at  this  hint.  "Was  it  'Rose  o'  Tennessee'?" 

"No,  it  was  not,"  said  Talboyes  defiantly. 


1 84  THE  DIPPERS 

The  negroes  were  not,  however,  to  be  so  easily 
discouraged.  Talboyes  had  made  mention  of  a  sub- 
ject to  which  their  repertoire  contained  ample  allu- 
sion. They  vied  in  noisy  suggestions. 

"  'Some  Cosy  rosy'?" 

"  'Ma  Mason-Dixie  Rose'?" 

'"Kentucky  Rose'?" 

'"Rose,  you're  thorny'?" 

"  'There  is  roses  in  the  corner  of  my  garden 
p-lot'?" 

'"Rose  B-lossom'?" 

'"Ma  allotment  rose'?" 

'"Rosy,  quit  your  bud'?" 

'"Oh,  Rose-Mary'?" 

There  was  a  brief  pause.  Apparently  the  cata- 
logue was  exhausted.  Then  one  of  the  banjoists 
had  another  inspiration. 

"I  got  it,"  he  cried.     "  'I  don't  want  no  roses'?" 

"N — o,  I  don't  think  /  do  now,"  said  Talboyes. 
"I  think  we  can't  do  better  than  have  just  a  simple 
melody — an  old  friend.  An  old  friend  like — er — 
like  'Annie  Laurie'." 

Perplexity  was  written  upon  every  dark  coun* 
tenance. 

"How's  that?"  inquired  the  leader  gravely. 

"  'Annie  Laurie'  or,  if  you  like — er — 'Abide  with 
me'." 

"Say,  Mr.  Dipp'r,"  confessed  the  leader  with  a 


THE  DIPPERS  185 

guilty  glance  towards  his  companions,  "we  don't 
hold  them.  I  guess  you  got  us  beat." 

"That  there  'Abide  with  me',"  said  one  of  the 
banjoists,  anxious  to  come  to  the  rescue,  "ain't  that 
one  o'  them  numbers  from  'Wiggle-Woggle' ?" 

"Nix,"  replied  the  trap-drummer.  "That's  'Stop 
here  the  night'." 

The  negroes  were  on  the  point  of  commencing 
another  argument  when  Talboyes  again  stepped  in. 

"You  don't  know  'Annie  Laurie'?"  he  asked  of 
the  leader  in  incredulous  tones. 

"No,  suh,  I  don't  get  you.  You  come  it  too  quick 
on  me." 

"Well,  the  only  thing  will  be  for  Mrs.  Dipper  to 
decide  presently  when  she's  disengaged,"  said  Tal- 
boyes in  desperation. 

"Say,  can't  you  come  across  right  now?"  grumbled 
the  leader. 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Talboyes.  "I  intend 
to  wait  here  for  Mrs.  Dipper.  When  she  comes  I'll 
let  you  know  what  to  play — if  you  can  play  it,  which 
seems  doubtful.  I've  never  seen  such  a  band.  I  can 
tell  you  more  about  music  and  musical  instruments 
than  you've  ever  dreamt  of.  You  don't  even  know 
'Annie  Laurie'.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
selves. Go  away,  go  away." 

"Say,"  protested  the  negro,  "who  is  this  Annie 
anyway?  If  you've  got  her  with  you,  I'll  learn  her." 


1 86  THE  DIPPERS 

"Go  away,  go  away,"  repeated  Talboyes. 

The  disgruntled  negro  turned  to  his  followers. 

"Here  boys,"  he  said,  "beat  it  back  to  that  there 
dance  hall." 

Still  arguing,  the  negroes  departed.  After  al- 
lowing them  a  moment  in  which  to  gain  the  ball-room, 
Talboyes  made  another  sally.  This  time  he  ran 
into  Lord  Mellingham,  and  again  retreated  into  the 
study  in  confusion. 

"Have  you  completed  your  arrangements?"  de- 
manded his  lordship,  as  he  followed. 

"Yes,  that  is  not  quite,  my  old  lordsh — my  lord. 
Mrs.  Shipper — my  wife  isn't  here  for  the  moment." 

"I  suppose  there  is  no  further  hitch?"  asked  Lord 
Mellingham  sardonically. 

"Hitch?  Oh  no,"  said  Talboyes  amiably.  "Every- 
thing's going  splendidly." 

"Am  I  to  understand  then  that  you  are  ready?" 

"Yes — that  is  very  nearly;  in  fact,  quite.  But  not 
knowing  exactly  where  my  wife  is " 

"Come,  come,  Mr.  Dipper,  look  alive,  sir." 

"A  what?" 

"Alive  I  said,"  repeated  his  lordship  with  grow- 
ing impatience,  "I  am  disagreeably  surprised  at  your 
attitude." 

Talboyes  smiled  sheepishly. 

"I've  got  some  attitudes  coming  which  I  hope  will 
compensate,"  he  said  politely. 


THE  DIPPERS  187 

"So  I  have  been  given  to  understand.  But  I  de- 
sire to  make  it  clear  to  you,  Mr.  Dipper,  that,  in  my 
estimation,  no  first-class  artiste  would  trifle  with  his 
engagements  however  advanced  his  reputation  and 

proficiency  in  the "  and  his  lordship  threw  a 

wealth  of  contempt  into  the  word — "in  the  juzz." 
He  turned  and  departed  with  great  dignity.  Pausing 
in  the  doorway  he  added,  "After  one  more  dance 
then.  Pray  find  your  wife." 

Talboyes  bit  his  lip  and  kicked  a  leather  footstool 
in  lieu  of  its  owner.  He  left  the  study  and  proceeded 
across  the  hall  in  search  of  Pauline.  At  the  foot  of 
the  stairs  he  paused.  Stella  was  taking  a  long  time 
over  her  rather  secret  mission  connected  with  the 
night's  destinies.  Should  he  go  in  search  of  her? 
With  his  foot  on  the  bottom  stair  he  was  arrested 
by  the  sudden  appearance  at  his  shoulder  of  a  dark 
maiden,  who  was  gazing  rapturously  into  his  face 
with  large,  appealing  eyes. 

"Oh,  please  excuse  me;  I  know  I  ought  not  to 
speak  to  you,"  she  said. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Talboyes,  on  the  defensive. 

"Because  we  have  never  met." 

"Oh,  haven't  me?     Good.     I  mean " 

"You  are  Mr.  Dipper,  are  you  not?" 

Talboyes  compromised  by  bowing. 

"You  must  excuse  me,"  she  continued  hastily,  look- 
ing around  her  as  though  in  fear  of  being  overheard. 


1 88  THE  DIPPERS 

"I  so  particularly  wanted  a  word  with  you.  My 
name's  Helen  Monk." 

Talboyes  started.  The  name  was  vaguely  familiar. 
He  bowed  again,  watching  the  dark  girl  closely.  She 
was  probably  the  bearer  of  some  private  message 
from  Mrs.  Tavistock.  His  rather  addled  brain 
seemed  to  connect  her  with  that  lady. 

"I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about  something  rather 
delicate." 

"Delicate?" 

"Yes.  I  know  I  ought  not  to  come  and  speak  to 
you  at  all,  but  this  is  not  a  subject  one  can  discuss  in 
public.  People  have  such  conventional  ideas." 

Talboyes  shifted  nervously. 

"I  wanted,"  proceeded  Helen,  dropping  her  voice, 
"to  talk  to  you  about  clothes.  I  have  been  so  inter- 
ested to  see  those  articles  of  yours." 

Talboyes'  fingers  strayed  over  his  person.  Was 
this  some  secret  injunction  from  Stella  concerning  his 
attire?  The  girl  paused  for  a  reply,  so  he  re- 
marked: 

"They're  not  really  mine,  you  know?" 

"Not  yours?"  echoed  Helen  in  a  highly-pitched 
voice  of  remonstrance.  "Oh,  but  they  are  so  full  of 
weighty  matter.  I  have  studied  each  of  them  in  turn 
and  done  my  best  to  discover  what  was,  so  to  speak, 
behind  them." 

Talboyes  took  refuge  up  two  stairs. 


THE  DIPPERS  189 

"Didn't  you  really  write  them  yourself?"  said 
Helen  plaintively. 

Talboyes  descended  the  two  stairs  again. 

"Oh,  those  articles?" 

"Yes,  the  articles  in  the  'Society  Lady.'  I  thought 
they  bore  your  name." 

"Oh,  yes,  yes.  The  articles  in  the  'Society  Lady.1 
Oh,  yes." 

"Yes,  about  hygienic  underclothing  for  ladies." 

"Oh  my — h'm — yes,  no,"  stammered  Talboyes, 
making  another  movement  towards  the  stairs.  "No, 
as  I  say,  they're  not  really  mine." 

"It  is  a  subject  I  particularly  wanted  to  take  up 
with  you,"  said  Helen  earnestly. 

"Ah,  no — not  with  me,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Talboyes. 
"No,  you  see,  I — I  only  lent  my  name." 

The  disillusioned  enthusiast  turned  with  a  sigh. 

"Oh  dear,"  she  quavered,  "I  am  disappointed. 
'And  I  did  so  want  to  try  and  show  you  my  own  little 


views." 


"Thank  you,  yes,"  said  Talboyes,  relieved  by  signs 
of  her  departure,  "but  I'm  so  busy  just  now — if — if 
you  wouldn't  mind  my  seeing  them  some  other  time — 
I  mean " 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Tavistock,  accompanied  by 
Pauline,  hove  in  sight  at  the  bend  of  the  stairs.  Helen 
regarded  Talboyes  with  one  final,  lingering  look, 
more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger. 


i9o  THE  DIPPERS 

"Oh,  dear.    Good-bye,"  she  said. 

"Good-bye,"  said  Talboys  with  alacrity. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  quickened  her  step.  There  was  no 
need  for  her  Henry  to  inform  her  that  he  was  again 
in  abject  need  of  her  solicitude. 

"Now  what  on  earth  is  the  matter?"  she  asked. 

Talboyes  indicated  the  retreating  figure  of  Helen. 

"That  girl,  Melon  H " 

"Helen  Monk?" 

"Yes — has  been  talking  to  me." 

"Helen  has?    What  about?" 

"I  scarcely  like  to  repeat  it."  He  turned  to  Paul- 
ine as  she  joined  them.  "Hank  seems  to  be  a  pretty 
queer  fish,"  he  remarked. 

"I  warned  you  not  to  talk  to  people,"  snapped 
Pauline.  "I  suppose  you've  been  doing  your  best 
to  ruin  everything." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Dipper,  that  is  not  very  fair,"  said 
Mrs.  Tavistock  gently.  "He's  being  perfectly  splen- 
did." There  was  nevertheless  a  trace  of  anxiety  in 
her  manner  as  she  asked  Talboyes  to  report  progress. 
"I'm  sure  everything  is  all  right,  isn't  it,  Henry? 
Who  else  have  you  been  talking  to?" 
,-  "Only  those  damned  niggers  and  the  old  lord. 
He's  in  a  hurry  for  us." 

"I  expect  you've  already  ruined  the  whole  show," 
grumbled  Pauline. 

"I  like  that,"  he  cried.     "As  a  matter  of  fact,  I 


THE  DIPPERS  191 

have  emerged  from  some  appalling  intricacies  with 
great  credit." 

"That's  the  spirit,"  exhorted  Mrs.  Tavistock.  "A 
little  dash  goes  a  long  way." 

"Does  it?"  said  Talboyes  dismally.  "I  should 
say  that  in  this  beastly  house  a  little  goes  a  dash  long 
way.  I  am  getting  more  and  more  involved  in  the 
most  awful  trouble." 

"Have  you  gone  and  given  yourself  away?"  asked 
Pauline  quickly. 

"The  only  person  I've  given  myself  away  to  is 
you,"  he  answered  with  some  warmth.  "I  think 
you  might  show  greater  appreciation  of  the  gift." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock  soothingly. 
"There's  nothing  to  be  worried  about.  We've  just 
settled  the  one  trifling  difficulty." 

"One !  Here  have  I  been  grappling  with  a  whole 
series  of  the  most  menacing  dilemmas,  and  you  talk 
about  one  trifling  difficulty,  Stella." 

"She  means  our  bedroom,"  said  Pauline. 

"I  beg  your  pardon?" 

"I  suppose  you  noticed  that  they  had  given  us  a 
double  bedroom?" 

Talboyes  had  not  considered  this  point.  What 
consequences  had  he  counted  in  that  mad  moment 
when  he  had  bent  over  the  weeping  Mrs.  Dipper 
and  yielded  his  unconditional  services  to  her? 

"It  will  be  all  right,  though,"  added  Pauline. 


192  THE  DIPPERS 

"It  will  be  nothing  of  the  sort." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  hastened  to  explain. 

"We  have  arranged  that  you  shall  sleep  in  my 
room,  Henry.  Mrs.  Dipper  and  I  will  share  the 
double  room.  When  we  turn  in,  which  will  prob- 
ably be  in  the  small  hours,  you  must  just  come  along 
quietly  to  my  room  and  I  will  go  and  join  her." 

"It's  all  perfectly  simple,"  said  Pauline. 

"Oh,  perfectly!"  said  Talboyes  ironically.  "Es- 
pecially when  the  maid  brings  the  tea  in  the  morning 
and  finds  me  asleep  in  your  bed!" 

"You  can  get  up  early  and  go  out,"  said  Pauline. 
"And  then  Mrs.  Tavistock  can  nip  back  into  her  own 
room." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  dare  say!"  objected  Talboyes.  "But 
I  may  not  want  to  get  up  early;  and  in  any  case  this 
is  going  to  be  very  tricky  work — coming  quietly  along 
and  getting  into  other  people's  beds  and  getting  out 
again  and  nipping  about." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  pulled  his  sleeve.  The  band  had 
ceased  playing.  Through  the  ball-room  doorway 
Lord  Mellingham  plunged  expectantly  into  the  hall. 

"Ah!    You  are  ready?" 

"Yes  your  bedsh — lordship,  at  least  I  think  so," 
said  Talboyes,  catching  his  breath  and  glancing  at 
Pauline. 

"You  must  be,"  cried  the  peer.  "All  this  inde- 
cision is  grossly  out  of  keeping  with  your  reputation. 


THE  DIPPERS  193 

Look  at  the  hour.    My  supper  will  be  ready  before 
you  are,  sir." 

Talboyes  turned  humiliated  eyes  to  the  clock. 
Good  heavens!  It  was  nearly  midnight.  He  had 
indeed  carried  dalliance  farther  than  he  could  reas- 
onably have  hoped.  But  now  his  hour  was  come. 
Modest,  meek-spirited  fool  that  he  was — how  could 
he  cope  with  the  degrading  menace  of  that  ball-room? 
"My  guests  are  growing  impatient.  You  have 
come  to  this  house  with  a  given  purpose,  namely  to 
juzz.  I  feel  justified  in  demanding  that  you  proceed 
to  juzz  forthwith." 

Pauline  uttered  a  quick,  nervous  laugh. 
"You'll  find  it's  been  worth  waiting  for,"  she  said. 
"I  am  glad  to  hear  it.    I  am  not  myself  an  expert; 
but  I  may  tell  you  that  I  anticipated  no  ordinary  dis- 
play when  I  saw  the  amount  of  your  fee." 

"That's  our  usual  charge,"  said  Pauline  sharply. 
"I  have  no  desire  to  challenge  it,  madam." 
"That's  all  right  then,"  whispered  Talboyes  with 
a  nod  to  Pauline.     A  silly  sort  of  notion  suggested 
to  his  mind   that  this  relieved  the  situation   con- 
siderably. 

"But  I  am  surprised,  nevertheless,"  continued 
his  lordship.  "You,  sir,  arrive  late  and  I  actually 
have  to  provide  you  with  a  conventional  evening  cos- 
tume from  my  own  private  wardrobe.  From  the 
outset  I  have  used  every  endeavour  to  facilitate  your 


i94  THE  DIPPERS 

arrangements.  This  lady  has  most  graciously  con- 
sented to  aid  your  preparations.  I  have  even  pro- 
vided a  double  room  in  my  congested  house  for  you 
and  Mrs.  Dipper.  I  do  not  for  a  moment  suppose 
that  you  expected  anything  so  pleasant." 

"This  lady  has  certainly  been  extremely  thought- 
ful," admitted  Talboyes  humbly.  "And  I  am  sure 
that  giving  us  that  room  was  kindly  meant." 

"Kindly  meant  indeed!  I  should  have  thought 
that  you  would  have  expressed  the  utmost  gratifica- 
tion at  such  an  arrangement.  In  return  I  must  point 
to  the  immediate  fulfilment  of  your  contract.  It  is 
most  important  that  my  guests  be  entertained.  There 
are  some  of  the  most  distinguished  County  families 
represented  here  to-night,  sir.  I  consider  it  no  small 
privilege  for  you  to  juzz  before  them." 

"It's — it's  no  common  experience  for  me,  I'm 
sure,"  said  Talboyes  plaintively. 

"Come,  sir,  are  you  ready?"  cried  his  indignant 
lordship. 

Talboyes  felt  himself  goaded  suddenly  from  shame 
into  hot  resentment  at  this  ill-mannered,  self-import- 
ant old  brute,  who  had  dared  to  lure  Stella  to  his 
distinguished,  opulent  house-party  and  gloat  over  her. 

"My  lord— yes !"  he  cried.  "Ready?  Yes.  I'll 
show  you — I'll  show  you  my — my — my — capabil- 
ities." 

"I  think  they've  started  another  dance  now,"  re- 


THE  DIPPERS  19$ 

marked  Pauline.     "The  band  has  started  again."1 

"I  will  stop  the  band,"  snorted  Lord  Mellingham., 
"The  band  is  merely  killing  time." 

"It  always  does  that,"  growled  Talboyes  in  an 
undertone. 

Lord  Mellingham  returned  to  the  doorway,  where 
he  stood  and  clapped  his  hands  twice.  After  a  mo- 
ment the  sounds  of  the  band  ceased.  Talboyes  fol- 
lowed his  host,  as  though  about  to  assault  him.  He 
was  quivering — unbalanced.  He  seemed  to  be  fired 
by  a  frenzied  desire  to  dash  into  the  ball-room  and 
to  fling  off  the  confliction  of  emotions  which  crowded 
his  brain — shame,  anxiety,  loathing  of  this  detest- 
able house-party  and  its  inflated  patron.  From  over 
Lord  Mellingham's  shoulder  he  summoned  the  band 
leader  with  a  peremptory  wave  of  the  arm. 

"Come  here,  you,"  he  said. 

The  negro,  grinning,  complied.  Talboyes  turned 
to  Pauline. 

"What  tune  are  these  shattering  creatures  to  im- 
itate?" he  asked  sternly. 

"Any  one-step;  only  rather  slow.  'Choosable 
Kid'  will  do.  But  slow,  mind." 

"There  you  are,"  said  Talboyes.  "  'Jazzable  Kid' 
— only  slow.  Off  you  go.  Do  your  worst.  Now" 
— and  he  turned  his  attention  to  Lord  Mellingham — 
"if  you  will  kindly  clear  the  floor  and  tell  them  that 
we're  going  to  do  the  Esquimaux' — what  is  it?" 


196  THE  DIPPERS 

:  'The  Esquimaux'  Lumber,'  "  said  Pauline,  "and 
please  add  that  it's  an  eccentric  dance  and  this  is  the 
first  time  it  has  been  performed  in  public." 

Lord  Mellingham,  considerably  appeased  by  the 
sudden  businesslike  awakening  of  the  Dippers,  nod- 
ded cordially,  threw  back  his  chest  and  cleared  his 
throat.  Some  eager  country  guest,  who  had  been 
watching  the  Dippers  through  the  open  doorway, 
noticed  this  and  said  "S-sh."  The  sound  was  taken 
up,  and  gradually  the  whole  room  resounded  with 
one  prolonged  "S-ssh,"  which  continued  long  after 
all  other  noises  had  ceased. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dipper  will  now  perform,  for  the 
first  time  I  am  informed,"  announced  his  lordship, 
"an  eccentric  dance  bearing  the  title  of  'The  Esqui- 
maux' Slumber'." 

"Lumber,  you — my  o — Lumber,  my  lord,"  as- 
serted the  voice  of  the  male  dancer. 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon.  'The  Esquimaux'  Lum- 
ber'." 

Applause  broke  forth  within  the  ball-room.  Lord 
Mellingham  beamed  his  acknowledgments  and 
marched  through  the  doorway. 

"Bravo!    That's  the  spirit!"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock. 

Talboyes  turned  to  her  quickly.  She  had  never 
seen  him  so  excited  and  worked  up. 

"He  shouldn't  speak  in  that  way  to  decent  people," 
he  said.  "He  brought  it  on  himself.  Confound  this  I 


THE  DIPPERS 


Does  he  think  I'm  afraid  of  him  and  his  jazzing 
friends?  One  plain,  sensible  man  could  tackle  all 
this  crowd  and  I'll  just  show  you  how  it's  done.  Dis- 
tinguished families  indeed!  Nothing  but  a  lot  of 
flat-headed  noodles  with  too  much  money.  I  haven't 
any  compunction  about  imposing  on  this  sort  of  place. 
Look  at  this!"  He  indicated  the  elaborate  vehicular 
cake-stand  at  his  elbow.  "Sandwiches  on  wheels! 
What  an  awful  place  !  I  haven't  engaged  in  a  rag 
for  twenty-five  years;  but  this  house  and  this  crowd 
are  too  much  for  me." 

"Splendid!  Go  ahead!"  said  Mrs.  TavistocK. 
"The  band's  struck  up." 

Talboyes  faltered.  For  a  moment  the  sound 
seemed  to  knock  all  the  impetuosity  out  of  him  as 
concussion  knocks  the  vigour  from  a  spinning  top. 

"Catch  hold  of  me,"  said  Pauline.  "We  dance  in 
through  the  open  doorway." 

"Er  —  now?"  asked  Talboyes,  pausing  to  wipe  his 
brow  with  an  apprehensive  glance  towards  the  scene 
of  action. 

"Yes,  now.  Do  your  best.  Don't  do  anything 
unnatural  to  you.  Just  lumber  like  an  Esquimaux. 
When  I  disengage  and  step  backwards  from  you, 
lumber  after  me.  It  doesn't  matter  if  you  look  a 
fool;  you're  meant  to.  When  I  whisper  'Swing'  and 
'Knees,'  you  know  what  to  do." 

He  nodded  without  stirring  another  muscle. 


i98  THE  DIPPERS 

"Now,"  said  Pauline.    "Ready?    Forward!" 

"Stella !"  gasped  Talboyes. 

"Be  brave,  Henry;  you  can  do  it." 

"Oh,  I  can't.    I  shall  fail.    It  will  be  awful." 

"You  won't  fail.  Go  in  and  tackle  them.  Are 
you  afraid  of  him  and  his  jazzing  friends?" 

"No!"  cried  Talboyes.  "No,  by  Heaven!,  For- 
wardl" 

He  clasped  Pauline  and  dbar.gsd  gallantly  through 


CHAPTER  IX 

LORD  MELLINGHAM  was,  as  He  confessed, 
no  judge  of  modern  dancing;  but  he  carefully 
took  up  a  position  in  the  ball-room  alongside 
certain  of  his  guests  who  were  better  qualified  to  de- 
cide whether  he  was  to  applaud  or  to  condemn  the 
initial  performance  of  the  Dippers.  Mr.  Harris  had 
by  this  time  become  a  strong  partisan,  and  had  de- 
cided, before  even  the  dance  commenced,  that  Mrs. 
Dipper,  at  all  events,  was  "a  top-liner".  Mr.  Harry 
Pink  was  neutral,  with  a  strong  leaning  towards  ap- 
probation, by  reason  of  his  desire  to  do  the  right 
thing. 

Mrs.  Buzzard  Knowles,  of  Coombe  Puddy,  how- 
ever, displayed  antagonism  from  the  moment  when 
she  beheld  Mrs.  Dipper's  costume,  which  she  knew 
to  be  smart  and  costly.  Her  sonorous  remark  to 
Lord  Mellingham,  "Gracious !  What  an  appropriate 
costume  for  an  Esquimaux,"  was  itself  as  biting  as 
the  Arctic  wind.  Mrs.  Appleby,  of  London,  who 
had  shown  her  independence  by  condemning  the  Dip- 
pers in  advance,  seconded  this  with  a  rather  raucous 

199 


200  THE  DIPPERS 

laugh,  which  was  mistaken  by  the  audience  for  a  sign 
that  the  dance  was  intended  to  be  humorous  and 
proved  of  immense  value  to  the  performers. 

It  was  unlikely  that  this  point  would  have  re- 
mained in  doubt  for  long.  If,  at  the  first  moment 
of  the  dancers'  entrance,  all  eyes  had  been  turned 
to  Pauline  in  admiration  or  criticism,  according  to 
the  sex  of  the  possessor,  her  partner  was  not  long 
in  establishing  himself  the  centre  of  attraction. 
Whether  the  frozen  dwellers  of  the  North  are  ever 
permitted  to  feel  the  emotions  of  passionate  enthusi- 
asm melting  their  benumbed  veins,  neither  he  nor 
any  of  his  audience  knew;  but  it  is  certain  that  seldom 
has  Esquimaux  been  stimulated  to  such  paroxysms 
of  ecstatic  frenzy  as  this.  His  eyes  rolled  wildly;  his 
teeth  were  set  in  a  grinning  grimace.  His  knees 
were  slightly  bent,  giving  his  figure  a  foreshortened, 
crouching  appearance.  The  arms  with  which  he  clung 
to  his  partner,  as  though  she  were  his  most  cherished 
prize,  looked  longer  than  was  natural,  owing  to  the 
unwonted  amplitude  of  sleeve;  and  his  costume  in 
general  was  well  adapted  to  his  conception  of  exult- 
ant savagery. 

The  woman — some  siren  of  the  dark  regions  it 
seemed — lured  her  ungainly  suitor  whither*  she 
would.  Her  head  was  poised  upright,  as  if  she  were 
keeping  her  lips,  which  wore  a  tantalizing  smile,  at 
a  tantalizing  distance.  Her  nimble  feet  performed 


THE  DIPPERS  201 

the  difficult  task  of  synchronizing  with  both  the  or- 
chestral accompaniment  and  the  more  indefinite  steps 
of  the  male  Esquimaux  without  apparent  effort. 
Pauline  was  in  truth  a  brilliant  dancer.  Never  had 
so  arduous  a  duty  as  this  been  demanded  of  her,  and 
she  was  carrying  it  through  with  all  the  appearance 
of  ease  and  enjoyment.  Talboyes  was  putting  in 
some  creditable,  if  rather  excessive,  swaying  from 
the  hip. 

Lord  Mellingham,  still  following  the  progress  of 
the  dance  and  its  effect  upon  the  guests  with  dubious 
eyes,  inclined  his  head  toward  Mr.  Harris  and  in- 
quired his  opinion. 

"Ow,  I  knew  that  girl  could  dance;  knew  it  direct- 
ly I  saw  the  movement  of  her  shoulders  when  she 
walked.  Man's  damn  good  in  this  too,  isn't  he?  I 
should  say  they're  both  tip-top,  though  o'course  you 
can't  judge  altogether  by  this.  I  should  like  to  see 
'em  do  a  proper  ball-room  turn.  Didn't  know  they 
were  going  to  hand  out  this  'eccentric'  stuff." 

"I  think  this  is  a  topping  show,"  observed  Mr. 
Harry  Pink,  in  a  gratuitous  whisper.  "Topping. 
The  man  is  topping.  So's  she,  by  Jove.  She's  a 
topping  little  dancer.  They're  both  of  them  topping 
in  my  opinion.  The  sort  of  way  she  leads  him  on. 
See  ?  That's  what  I  mean.  I  call  that  simply  topping." 

"I  think  the  man  is  rather  indecent,"  said  Mrs. 
Buzzard  Knowles. 


202  THE  DIPPERS 

"Ow,  that's  all  part  of  it,"  explained  Mr.  Harris. 
"You  can't  have  your  eccentric  stuff  refined.  You 
might  as  well  dress  a  revue  chorus  in  coats  and 
skirts." 

From  the  curtained  doorway  Mrs.  Tavistock  stud- 
ied every  feature  of  the  scene,  now  craning  forward 
slightly  to  note  the  effect  on  a  certain  section  of  the 
onlookers,  now  glancing  quickly  back  to  the  dancers, 
prompted  by  an  outbreak  of  laughter.  Pauline  had 
disengaged  herself  from  her  partner's  embrace  and, 
with  a  series  of  neat  skips,  eluded  him  as  he  flounced 
after  her,  beating  his  sides  with  his  great  hanging 
arms  and  uttering  strange  grunting  noises.  Soon  he 
caught  her,  seized  her  below  the  knees  with  his  left 
hand  and  lifted  her  with  masterful  ease.  He  carried 
her  prone  body  round  slowly  to  left  and  right  in 
turn,  as  though  seeking  where  to  deposit  her;  his 
eyes  rolling  in  triumphant  deliberation.  Then,  with 
a  weird,  gutteral  snort  of  elation,  he  commenced 
what  the  audience  recognized  as  a  grotesque  imita- 
tion of  that  dual  whirl  which  constitutes  the  piece 
de  resistance  of  so  many  eccentric  dancing  interludes. 
It  was  a  masterpiece  of  bungling  parody.  The  laugh- 
ter and  applause  became  general  and  unstinted.  Even 
Mrs.  Buzzard  Knowles  tapped  a  gratulatory  fan. 

Lord  Mellingham  anxiously  studied  the  faces  in 
the  large  circle  of  onlookers.  There  could  be  little 
doubt  of  the  unqualified  success  of  the  Lumber.  The 


THE  DIPPERS  203 

very  orchestra  seemed  to  be  inspired  to  an  unprece- 
dented zest;  the  banjoists  inserting  every  variety  of 
interpolated  oddities  between  the  well-marked  beats 
of  "Some  Choosable  Kid,"  the  drummer,  in  a  par- 
oxysm of  enthusiasm,  flinging  his  stick  to  the  ceiling, 
catching  it  deftly  and  dealing  with  it  a  smashing  blow 
upon  a  gong  at  the  requisite  moment.  The  heads 
and  shoulders  of  even  the  more  elderly  chaperons 
were  gyrating  in  abandoned  delight,  reckless  of  their 
coiffure.  Rather  uncalled-for  vocal  embellishments 
of  the  tune  mingled  with  the  laughter  and  applause; 
while  the  eyes  of  every  member  of  the  audience  fol- 
lowed the  movements  of  the  dancers  with  the  keen- 
est relish. 

The  delighted  peer  again  turned  his  attention  to 
the  performers.  Unfamiliar  as  he  was  with  Terpsi- 
chore in  her  riotous  modern  guise,  he  could  not  fail 
to  remark  the  fact  that  the  Dippers  possessed  certain 
idiosyncrasies  which  justified  the  confidence  of  their 
agents  and  utterly  confounded  the  prejudice  of  his 
town  guests.  This  was  particularly  noteworthy  in 
the  case  of  the  husband.  The  male  performer  of 
a  dancing  partnership  is  usually  contented  to  play 
the  part  of  the  strong  and  silent,  if  agile,  prop  against 
which  the  female  comes  to  rest  at  given  periods  in  her 
manoeuvres.  No  such  methods  sufficed  this  special- 
ist. Even  at  such  times  as  his  partner  drew  the  gen- 
eral attention  with  some  remarkable  development  of 


204  THE  DIPPERS 

her  art,  he  never  wavered  in  his  insistent  rendering 
of  the  passionate  Esquimaux.  Lord  Mellingham 
noted,  however,  with  some  surprise  that  he  was  be- 
ginning to  display  unmistakable  signs  of  fatigue.  His 
mouth  was  wide  open;  and,  though  he  pursued  his 
inamorata  with  undimished  frenzy,  loud  gasps  of 
physical  distress  were  audible  with  every  breath  he 
emitted.  This  was  strange ;  surely  a  man  of  his  pro- 
fession must  be  more  highly  trained  than  this — even 
though  his  corpulence  was  greater  than  was  usual 
in  such  cases.  Then  Lord  Mellingham  realized  from 
the  increasing  mirth  of  his  guests  that  this  was  an 
assumed  feature  of  Mr.  Dipper's  display,  and  he 
beaming  again.  The  man  was  an  artist.  Even 
he,  the  host,  was  justified  in  acknowledging  the 
fact. 

His  lordship  turned  to  Mr.  Pink. 

"A  pantomimist  of  no  mean  order,"  he  com- 
mented. 

"Topping,"  agreed  Mr.  Pink. 

On  all  sides  now  the  verdict  was  the  same.  The 
dance  was  original,  primitive,  unrefined,  delicious, 
clever,  topping  and  calculated  to  take  London  by 
storm. 

Once  more  the  frantic  wooer  succeeded  in  gain- 
ing his  objective.  He  clasped  her  to  his  bulging  shirt- 
front,  his  lips  uttering  some  grotesque  sentiment  of 
primeval  passion  in  her  ear. 


THE  DIPPERS  205 

"I  wonder  what  he's  supposed  to  be  saying  to  her," 
said  Mrs.  Buckingham  Leape. 

"I  don't,"  said  Mr.  Harris. 

"I  don't  think  he  said  anything  really,"  put  in  a 
lady  guest. 

She  was  wrong.  The  male  Esquimaux  had  spoken, 
though  his  voice  was  so  faint  and  his  breath  so  scanty 
that  above  the  din  of  the  band  and  the  laughter  even 
Pauline  found  it  difficult  to  distinguish  the  words: 
"Oh — let's  drop — I'm  stopping — strop — dropping — 
stop." 

The  female  Esquimaux  leant  gracefully  backwards 
from  his  grasp,  until  she  was  bent  almost  double,  in 
which  position  she  continued  to  toy  with  his  affec- 
tions, shaking  her  head  coyly.  But  he  would  take 
no  denial.  Seizing  his  opportunity  he  secured  her 
resolutely  beneath  the  knees,  clasped  her  firmly  in  his 
strong  arms,  took  two  paces  towards  the  door,  hesi- 
tated a  moment,  returned,  executed  one  final  exultant 
whirl  and  plunged  with  his  booty  into  the  Armorial 
Hall.  At  the  same  moment  the  band  judiciously  gave 
vent  to  that  musical  catchphrase  of  four  notes  and 
two  crashes  which  may  be  described  as  the  ragtime 
for  Amen,  after  which  the  leader  popped  his  head  up 
from  the  piano  with  a  broad  grin  of  satisfaction  and 
delivered  himself  of  the  probably  rhetorical  inquiry, 
"Have  you  got  me,  Steve?" 

To  Lord  Mellingham's  gratification,  a  consider- 


206  THE  DIPPERS 

able  portion  of  the  enthusiasm  which  followed  was 
reserved  for  himself.  Amid  the  loud  calls  of  "En- 
core," and  clapping  of  hands,  Mr.  Harris  grasped 
his  sleeve  and  exclaimed : 

"Withdraw  all  I  said  before  the  ball — you've  un- 
earthed a  top-line  dance-act,  old  boy — fine — you 
ought  to  be  in  the  business." 

A  sentiment  which  was  echoed  in  a  variety  of  terms 
by  the  adjoining  guests,  while  those  who  were  out 
of  ear-shot  of  his  lordship  contented  themselves  by 
energetically  recalling  the  performers. 

Talboyes  had  fallen  into  a  chair  in  the  Armorial 
Hall.  His  head  was  lowered  and  nodding  in  time 
with  his  deep  breathing.  One  fist  was  clenched  to 
his  chest.  Pauline  stood  beside  him,  adjusting  the 
effects  of  the  Lumber  on  her  appearance  with  her 
slim,  neat  fingers.  Her  eyes  were  bright  with  the  ex- 
citement of  success.  Mrs.  Tavistock  still  hovered 
watchfully  at  the  entrance,  like  a  stage-manager  of 
amateur  theatricals,  with  an  eye  for  both  sides  of  the 
curtain. 

Pauline  glanced  down  in  lenient  impatience  at  the 
associate  of  her  triumph. 

"Come  and  take  a  call,"  she  said.  "We  must  fol- 
low this  up  while  it's  hot." 

Talboyes  raised  his  head  slowly. 

"I  can't — do  any  more,"  he  said.     "As  for  fol- 


THE  DIPPERS  207 

lowing  up  something  hot,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  even 
say  such  things." 

"Well,  you  can  get  up  and  bow,  can't  you?" 

He  rose  with  abrupt  clumsiness  like  a  goaded  ox 
and  accompanied  her  towards  the  ball-room,  from 
which  bursts  of  applause  still  re-echoed.  Mrs.  Tav- 
istock,  with  a  happy  smile,  intercepted  him. 

"Splendid,  Henry!"  she  whispered. 

He  made  no  reply.  Success  seemed  almost  to  have 
intensified  his  misery.  He  made  his  obeisance  in  the 
doorway  to  a  renewed  volley  of  clapping  and  insist- 
ent cries  of  "Encore".  He  felt  his  features  distend 
automatically  in  a  false  smile. 

Pauline's  hand  had  somehow  found  its  way  into 
his  own.  He  released  it  readily  as  he  stepped  back 
from  the  doorway.  From  the  curtain  at  his  side 
the  felicitous  voice  of  Stella  greeted  his  return.  He 
edged  out  of  view  of  the  ball-room  and  met  her  eyes 
with  a  queer  little  smile  of  shame. 

"Henry,  it  was  wonderful!     How  did  you  do  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied.  "I  don't  even  know 
what  it  was  I  did." 

"It  has  been  a  terrific  success  anyhow,'"*  she  as- 
sured him.  "You  must  follow  up  your  advantage." 

He  moaned,  mopping  his  forehead. 

"All  this  following  up  is  more  than  I  bargained 
for,"  he  said. 

"What  I  mean  is,  don't  let  them  lose  their  first  im- 


208  THE  DIPPERS 

pression  of  you.  Look  a  little  more  pleased  and  con- 
fident. There's  nothing  to  worry  about  now.  You've 
got  all  these  people  absolutely  cold." 

"Oh,  cold?    That's  better,"  said  Talboyes. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  left  his  side  and  crossed  the  hall 
to  where  Pauline  was  standing.  A  moment  later 
the  figure  of  Lord  Mellingham  blocked  the  door- 
way. 

"Ah!"  said  the  peer  advancing.  "Capital!  Your 
display  delighted  my  guests.  You  will  favour  us,  I 
am  confident,  with  another." 

All  the  brusque  impatience  of  his  manner  had  sub- 
sided as  the  bubbling  heat  subsides  from  a  pudding. 
He  beamed  on  Talboyes,  radiating  patronage.  The 
latter  collected  himself  with  an  effort  and  faced  the 
peer  with  an  attempt  to  assume  pleasure  and  con- 
fidence which  resolved  into  an  intimidated  smirk. 

"It's  exceedingly  kind  of  your  guests — of  you—- 
of your  guests  and  you — of  you  and  your  g " 

"We  don't  generally  take  encores,  you  know,"  said 
Pauline.  "Of  course  we're  awfully  glad  you  want 
one  and  all  that,  but  it  isn't  done  as  a  rule." 

"It  is  not  done?" 

"No,  not  in  a  dance  turn,  unless  it's  fixed  up  be- 
forehand, when  the  first  number's  cut  short  on  pur- 
pose. It  isn't  like  a  song,  you  see;  it  takes  it  out  of 
you  a  bit,  and  you  can't  do  yourself  justice  again 
bang  off." 


THE  DIPPERS  209 

"Oh,"  said  Lord  Mellingham  blankly,  turning  to 
Talboyes  who  nodded  knowledge  ably. 

"I  think  that  is  quite  reasonable,  Lord  Melling- 
ham," put  in  Mrs.  Tavistock.  "I  should  be  inclined 
to  let  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dipper  reserve  their  energies." 

"If  you  think  so,  by  all  means,"  said  the  peer 
fondly. 

"Yes,  don't  you?  Let  them  wait  in  the  study. 
You  can  send  word  along  when  you  want  them  again. 
It  isn't  as  if  they  were  only  going  to  make  one  ap- 
pearance." 

She  glanced  at  Talboyes.  His  eyes  were  upturned 
as  though  in  prayer. 

Lord  Mellingham  assented  with  a  gracious  inclina- 
tion of  the  head.  Turning,  he  addressed  himself  to 
a  lurking  group  of  guests  at  the  ball-room  entrance. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dipper  will  entertain  us  again 
later,"  he  announced.  "Meanwhile  I  suggest  a  re- 
sumption of  the  general  juzz." 

Pauline  was  already  at  the  study  door,  whither 
after  a  pitiable  look  at  Mrs.  Tavistock  Talboyes  fol- 
lowed her,  dragging  his  ill-fitting  dress  clothes  across 
the  hall  like  a  large  shaggy  dog  obedient  to  involun- 
tary exercise. 

"My  dear  lady,"  said  Lord  Mellingham,  returning 
just  as  the  study  door  closed  behind  the  dancing  part- 
ners, "you  witnessed  the  performance  I  trust?  I 
failed  to  see  vou  enter  the  ball-room." 


210  THE  DIPPERS 

"I  was  rather  at  the  back,  but  I  saw  beautifully. 
It  was  wonderfully  good,  wasn't  it?  Anybody  can 
do  ordinary  ball-room  dances  with  a  few  trick  steps, 
but  it  takes  an  extraordinarily  clever  man  to  carica- 
ture it  as  he  does." 

"Yes,  the  man  is  an  accomplished  buffoon,"  agreed 
his  lordship.  "I  suppose,  however,"  he  added  roll- 
ing his  head  slowly  to  one  side,  "that  their  talents 
range  beyond  the  grotesque.  It  was  my  intention  to 
engage  exponents  of  what  you  refer  to  as  the  ordinary 
ball-room  dances." 

"Well,  I  should  keep  that  dark  if  I  could  get  the 
credit  for  such  an  original  attraction  as  this,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Tavistock  tersely. 

His  face  rippled  with  appreciation  of  her  shrewd- 
ness. 

"True,"  he  remarked,  "true.  And  indeed  I  am 
pleased  to  have  afforded  the  encouragement.  They 
appear  to  have  been  in  need  of  it.  Judging  from  his 
demeanour  the  husband,  at  all  events,  is  more  at  ease 
in  the  canteen  than  the  drawing-room." 

"He  is  not  a  bad  man  really,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock 
restlessly.  "I  have  seen  something  of  them  to-night 
and " 

He  interrupted  her  with  an  effervescence  of  com- 
pliment. 

"You  have  indeed.  You  have  constituted  your- 
self their  prompter.  I  cannot  thank  you  enough  for 


THE  DIPPERS  211 

the  service,  which  I  should  have  been  the  last  to  have 
imposed  upon  you.  It  is  you  I  have  to  thank  for 
their  success  and  mine." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  smiled.  The  desperate  ruse  had 
prospered.  For  the  moment  they  were  secure  from 
suspicion  and  disaster.  The  gullible  peer  and  his 
self-centred  gratitude  moved  her  almost  to  shame 
and  pity. 

"No,  no,"  she  said  quickly,  "I  like  getting  to  know 
people  like  that — uncommon  people." 

"Hardly  the  epithet  I  should  have  chosen,"  said 
Lord  Mellingham  with  forbearing  jocularity. 

"People  who  have  a — a  struggle  are  always  worth 
knowing,"  she  continued.  "These  people  are  like 
that.  They  have — told  me  something  of  their  cir- 
cumstances. Both  of  them  have  known  what  it  is 
to  be  in  difficulties." 

"Indeed?"  said  Lord  Mellingham  without  emo- 
tion. 

"Yes — the  woman,  in  the  first  place,  has  had  a 
troubled  time.  She  has  told  me  about  it.  This  is 
not  her  first  husband " 

"Dear  lady,  is  that  an  insuperable  adversity?" 
said  Lord  Mellingham  with  a  sudden  inspiration. 
".Come  let  us  sit  on  the  terrace." 

As  he  spoke  the  opening  chords  of  "My  Mason- 
Dixie  Rose"  burst  from  the  ball-room. 

"Presently,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock,  excusing  her- 


212  THE  DIPPERS 

self  with  a  winning  smile.  "I've  promised  to  dance 
this." 

He  raised  a  plump,  protesting  hand. 

"Ah,  come  with  me,"  he  pleaded,  only  to  turn 
from  her  with  a  start,  as  Wattle  put  in  an  apolo- 
getic appearance  from  the  dining-room  with  rumours 
of  supper. 

"What,  what,  oh  what?"  asked  his  lordship  testily. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  slipped  into  the  ball-room.  The 
Esquimaux'  Lumber  was  not  without  its  analogy. 

Ten  minutes  later  she  reconnoitred  her  way  into 
the  study.  Talboyes  was  seated  on  the  Chesterfield, 
a  woebegone  figure.  Pauline,  astride  the  writing- 
table,  was  skimming  the  pages  of  an  illustrated  week- 
ly with  an  air  of  unconcern.  Mrs.  Tavistock  seated 
herself  beside  Talboyes  and  patted  his  baggy  knee 
encouragingly. 

"Why  be  so  dismal  about  a  glorious  victory,  dear 
Henry?"  she  asked. 

"Victory!"  he  muttered.  He  looked  at  her  with 
a  slow,  sad  shake  of  his  head.  "I've  done  it,"  he 
continued,  "that's  the  point.  It's  the  awful  realiza- 
tion. It's  easy  enough  to  imagine  oneself  capering 
about  like  a  madman  before  a  crowd  of  people,  but 
I've  done  it.  It  was  all  an  appalling  sort  of  dream. 
God  knows  what  excesses  I  committed." 

"But  you  were  magnificent.  It  couldn't  have  been 
better,  could  it,  Mrs.  Dipper?" 


THE  DIPPERS  213 

Pauline  jerked  her  chin  with  a  bitter  little  laugh, 
without  raising  her  eyes.  Talboyes  spread  out  his 
hands  before  him. 

"The  consequences !"  he  said.  "Think !  All  this 
is  bound  to  come  out.  My  clerks  will  know  me  as 
Hank.  Club  waiters  will  lumber  at  me  with  my 
lunch." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  rose  briskly  from  the  Chesterfield. 

"Good  heavens,  Henry,"  she  said,  "what  has  hap- 
pened to  your  sense  of  humour?  You're  the  hero  of 
the  moment.  You  flounced  in  and  out  of  that  room 
and  muddled  about  in  rather  voluminous  trousers, 
and  you've  left  the  entire  crowd  of  County  repre- 
sentatives open-mouthed  in  admiration." 

He  glanced  up  at  her  curiously. 

"They  laughed,"  he  said  in  an  injured  tone. 

"Best  thing  they  could  have  done,  for  our  pur- 
pose," she  replied.  "Besides,  you  didn't  intend  your 
Esquimaux  to  be  a  thing  of  pathos,  did  you?" 

"No,  but  these  wretched  people  seem  to  have  no 
perception." 

"Well,  goodness  me,  Henry,  that's  our  one  sal- 
vation. They  may  be  fools,  but,  if  so,  we've  every 
reason  to  suffer  them  gladly." 

Very  gradually  his  worried  frown  gave  place  to  a 
contemplative  smile.  It  broadened. 

"By  Jove,  yes,  Stella,"  he  exclaimed.  "I  may  have 
made  a  fool  of  myself,  but  there  are  others." 


214  THE  DIPPERS 

"Oh,  the  laugh's  with  you  all  right,"  put  in  Pauline 
casually  from  the  table. 

"That's  better,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock.  "That's 
the  spirit,  Henry.  Now  take  full  advantage  of  them. 
I  shall  have  to  leave  you  to  your  own  devices;  I  can't 
be  seen  hanging  round  you  the  whole  evening.  It  is 
supper-time.  After  supper  you  will  be  called  upon 
to  perform  again.  Have  you  decided  what  you  are 
going  to  do?" 

Talboyes  blew  out  his  cheeks  in  the  manner  of  a 
baffled  mathematician. 

"I  can  only  do  what  I  did  before,  and  only  then 
if  worked  up  to  it,"  he  observed. 

"It  seems  to  depend  on  the  supper,"  said  Pauline. 
She  sat  upright  and  turned  a  supplicatory  glance 
towards  Mrs.  Tavistock.  "Can  you  help  us  again 
with  an  idea?"  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  deliberated,  taking  measure  of 
Talboyes  with  half-closed  eyes. 

"I  should  think  a  minuet  is  about  your  mark,  dear 
Henry,"  she  said.  "Why  not  'The  Minuet  Jazz'? 
The  old-world  dancer  enticed  from  his  wonted  de- 
corum by  the  vision  of  his  gay  successor.  I  should 
think  that  would  do  splendidly.  You  can  borrow  a 
sword  from  the  Armorial  Hall,  Henry;  and  don't, 
whatever  you  do,  try  to  be  funny,  and  you'll  make 
another  roaring  success." 


CHAPTER  X 

SUPPER  was  in  keeping  with  the  traditions  of 
Mellingham  Hall.  The  night  was  far  spent 
when  Wattle  entered  the  study  with  the  sum- 
mons for  the  second  interlude,  and  emerged,  with  all 
the  consequence  of  an  assistant  executioner,  to  crave 
the  loan  of  the  sword. 

Talboyes  advanced  to  the  ball-room  doorway  and 
eyed  the  expectant  throng.  Lord  Mellingham  was 
in  his  favourite  position  by  the  fireplace,  with  Mrs. 
Tavistock  at  his  side.  An  unnerving  round  of  ap- 
plause greeted  Talboyes'  appearance.  He  flinched 
perceptibly,  his  lips  moving  as  though  repeating  the 
opening  words  of  a  speech. 

"Ha  ha!"  cried  Mr.  Pink  encouragingly.  "This 
is  going  to  be  topping." 

In  the  study  Talboyes  had  taken  all  the  necessary 
precautions.  He  had  practised  the  Minuet  Jazz 
with  Pauline,  he  had  witnessed  her  instructions  to  the 
band,  he  had  eaten  a  reasonably  hearty  supper,  and 
he  had  rehearsed  the  announcement  of  the  simple 
title  of  the  dance  a  score  of  times  with  a  variety  of 
vocal  inflections.  Why  this  nervous  indecision?  He 

215 


216  THE  DIPPERS 

glanced  shyly  towards  the  fireplace  and  mastered 
himself  with  an  effort. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  the  Minuet  Gin — Maz 
— Minuet  Jazz." 

Laughter,  a  buzz  of  interest  and  sporadic  clapping. 

The  leading  negro,  who  seemed  possessed  of  some 
ostrich  theory  that  to  cross  the  floor  at  a  pronounced 
stoop  rendered  him  invisible  to  the  audience,  re- 
turned to  his  post  from  a  final  coaching  by  Pauline 
in  the  hall.  The  music  commenced.  The  Dippers 
entered.  The  Spirit  of  the  Old- World  Dance  initiated 
his  performance  by  tripping  over  his  sword.  The 
success  of  the  dance  was  practically  assured. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  looked  quickly  at  Lord  Melling- 
ham.  He  was  noting  the  effect  of  the  Minuet  Jazz 
on  his  audience,  raising  his  eyebrows  at  admiring 
ladies.  She  slipped  from  his  side,  passed  quietly  be- 
hind the  craning  guests,  and  made  her  way  unob- 
trusively to  the  door.  Something,  appearing  round 
the  curtained  corner,  had  caught  her  watchful  eye — 
something  which  caused  her  to  catch  her  breath  with 
a  quick  thrill  of  intuitive  foreboding.  She  had  seen 
the  face  of  Wattle,  screwed  into  an  unnatural  ex- 
pression of  protest  and  dismay,  and  in  the  back- 
ground, half-hidden  by  the  butler's  obtrusive  should- 
ers, the  shadowy  figure  of  a  man  unknown. 

She  gained  the  doorway. 

"Wattle,  that  man?"  she  asked  in  an  articulate 


THE  DIPPERS  217 

whisper  above  the  din  of  the  band.  "Who  is  he? 
What  does  he  want  here?" 

"  'E  is  a  very  strange  man  indeed,  madam,"  re- 
plied the  butler  in  throaty  confidence. 

"How  did  he  get  in?" 

"The  front  door  was  open  owing  to  the  'eat." 

"But  what  is  he  doing  here?" 

"Says  he  wishes  to  see  Mrs.  Dipper,  madam." 

"But  can't  he  wait  outside?" 

"Madam,  'is  manner  is  harrogant.  I  requested 
'im — 'ardly  caring  to  use  force." 

"Ah,  well,  I  think  I  know  all  about  him,  Wattle. 
You  had  better  leave  me  to  deal  with  him." 

"Madam,  the  man  is,  if  I  may  say  so,  'ardly " 

"It's  all  right,  Wattle,  you  may  leave  him  with 
me." 

Wattle  was  not  the  butler  to  fall  foul  of  his  mis- 
tress-elect. He  bowed  stiffly  and  crossed  the  hall, 
with  a  sniff  at  the  inferior  suitcase  which  the  intruder 
had  deposited  on  one  of  his  lordship's  most  approved 
wolfskins. 

The  stranger  stood  like  a  statue  three  paces  with- 
out the  ball-room.  He  was  dusty.  The  hand  which 
held  the  broad  check  cap  was  stained  with  the  road. 
His  eyes,  which  had  been  staring  with  blank  amaze- 
ment at  the  scene  before  him,  turned  wildly  on  Mrs. 
Tavistock,  as  though  she  had  stepped  out  of  a  fairy 
tale. 


2i 8  THE  DIPPERS 

"Somehow  I  guess  that  you  must  be  Mr.  Dipper," 
she  said. 

"I  guess  I  am,"  was  the  reply. 

"What  made  you  come  here?" 

"Now,  that's  strange,"  said  Dipper.  "I  was  sup- 
posing you'd  need  to  know  what  kept  me  away, 
madam." 

"You  cannot  stay  here  now.  You  must  go  quickly. 
I'll  come  outside  with  you  and  explain." 

Mr.  Dipper's  forehead  was  furrowed  with  disap- 
pointed surprise. 

"But  say,  madam,  I'm  late  I  know  it.  I  met  with 
every  kind  of  trouble  on  that  road — cows  and  gas- 
oline and  cops  and  everything.  But  I'm  not  so  late 
that  I  can't  appear.  I  need  only  to  change.  There's 
my  wife  in  there,  all  ready  and — madam,  what  in 

h what  holy  manner  of  stuff  is  that  which  she's 

handing  out  to  them?" 

"Come  away — you  must  come  away.  I'll  ex- 
plain." 

Dipper  moved  one  pace  reluctantly.  His  eyes  still 
dwelt  in  horrified  fascination  on  the  scene  in  the  ball* 
room. 

"Gee!"  he  murmured. 

He  had  reason  to  be  surprised.  There  was  Pauline 
in  full  rig,  dancing  as  though  she  had  been  dancing 
the  whole  evening  with  nevejr  a  thought  for  him, 
but  dancing  alone.  Her  arms  were  postured,  just  as 


THE  DIPPERS  219 

if  she  were  engaged  with  some  partner,  and  her  hus- 
band could  recognize  in  her  steps  traces  of  some  of 
his  own  recent  innovations — the  "Cocktail  Slide"  and 
the  "Clam  Razzle."  These  were  not  being  executed 
for  the  benefit  of  the  audience  but  were  aimed  solely 
at  a  big,  perspiring  gink  in  a  suit  like  a  quick-change 
waiter's  at  a  down-town  ham-and-beef  parlour,  with 
— holy  Moses! — a  sword;  who  was  shuffling  around 
after  her  like  a  bear  on  a  bee-nest. 

"Gee!"  said  Hank. 

A  flame  of  resentment  flushed  his  sunken  cheek. 
To  what  indignity  had  Pauline  yielded  herself  in 
atonement  for  his  failure?  He  saw  the  crowd  of 
eager  spectators  laughing  as  children  laugh  at  the 
antics  of  a  monkey.  His  eye  caught  the  furtive  ex- 
pression of  Mr.  Harris,  leering  as  it  followed 
Pauline's  movements.  Now  she  engaged  her  fatuous 
partner,  patted  his  cheek,  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
drew  him  into  a  preposterous,  waddling  quick-step. 
The  artistic  soul  of  Hank  Dipper  swelled  in  indigna- 
tion. It  was  barbarous,  unseemly.  They  had  taken 
advantage  of  his  delay  to  drag  Pauline  into  a  heart- 
less caricature  of  the  art  which  was  his  pride  and 
profession. 

He  felt  the  lady's  hand  pulling  at  his  coat-sleeve. 
He  stayed  it  gently  with  his  own. 

"What's  she  about?  Tell  me,  madam,  if  you 
please,  what  all  this  means?" 


220  THE  DIPPERS 

"She  has  had  to  find  another  partner  to  dance 
with  of  course " 

"Dance!  But,  say,  madam,  this  stuff  is  not  danc- 
ing. My  wife  is  never  intended  for  this  foolery. 
They're  doing  the  very  opposite  of  dancing.  They're 
ridicooling  it." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  bit  her  lip. 

"Come,"  she  said.  "You  must  come  away  now. 
Your  wife  wouldn't  care  to  see  you  standing  here." 

"Why?"  He  drew  his  sleeve  politely  from  her 
grasp  and  turned  his  eyes  quickly  on  her  face. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  made  impetuous  patting  motions 
with  the  rejected  hand.  In  the  ball-room  she  had  a 
passing  vision  of  Henry  in  hopeless,  stumbling  en- 
tanglement of  feet  and  sword;  of  Lord  Mellingham, 
searching  the  room  with  a  face  of  surprise  and  con- 
cern. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "your  appearance  at  the  present 
moment  hardly  does  her  credit." 

"Gee,  nor  hers  me,"  said  Hank. 

Above  the  clamour  within  Mrs.  Tavistock  argued, 
commanded,  implored.  He  must  go  and  dress  be- 
fore joining  his  wife.  She  had  behaved  splendidly 
in  the  emergency;  would  he  embarrass  her  in  the 
moment  of  success?  But  Hank  Dipper's  chin  was 
thrust  out.  He  answered  her  courteously  but  firmly; 
and  he  never  took  his  eyes  off  the  Minuet  Jazz,  now 
dwindling  to  its  insensate  conclusion. 


THE  DIPPERS  221 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "I've  no  desire  to  give  you 
trouble  but  I — I  can't  stand  for  this." 

It  is  improbable  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Old-World 
Dance  could  have  stood  for  the  Minuet  Jazz  much 
longer.  It  had  none  of  the  whirling  spontaneity  of 
the  Esquimaux'  Lumber.  A  feeling  of  helpless  dis- 
comfiture hampered  his  actions  throughout — a  mis- 
erable self-consciousness,  loathing,  shame.  Somehow 
he  muddled  on.  He  saw  Pauline's  theatrical  smile  of 
seduction.  To  think  that  he  had  yielded  all  his  self- 
respect  to  that  smile  but  a  few  hours  before!  "It 
will  be  a  bit  of  fun,"  she  had  said.  Fun!  The 
thought  had  brought  him  to  a  standstill.  He  recol- 
lected himself  and  pirouetted  heavily.  The  audience 
laughed — laughed ! 

It  ended — as  it  had  proceeded — somehow.  He 
knew  it  was  a  dismal  failure.  The  clapping  and  calls 
which  resounded  from  the  ball-room,  as,  still  in  dif- 
ficulties with  his  sword,  he  followed  Pauline  out, 
were  all  sham,  all  mockery.  If  this  thing  had  been 
acceptable,  Heaven  knew,  they  would  swallow  any- 
thing. 

He  blundered  into  Pauline  where  she  had  halted. 
"Hank!"  he  heard  her  exclaim.  Her  voice  was 
strange.  He  looked  up  sharply  and  the  dress  clothes 
seemed  to  grow  suddenly  bigger — overwhelming. 
He  turned  to  the  ball-room  as  though  in  flight.  Lord 


222  THE  DIPPERS 

Mellingham  was  elbowing  his  apologetic  way 
towards  the  door. 

"This  is  a  nice  thing  you've  done,"  said  Pauline. 

"What's  this  stuff  you've  been  doing,  anyway?" 
said  her  husband. 

She  was  stepping  back  from  him  as  they  spoke,  led 
gently  by  an  intervening  hand. 

"Please  go  to  your  room,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock. 
"I'll  see  to  everything.  He  shall  come  up  to  you." 

"But  I  must  speak  to  him — I  must " 

"You  shall;  but  we  cannot  have  a  scene  here.  Do 
what  I  ask  you.  He  shall  come  up  to  you." 

"You  promise?" 

"Yes,  yes.     Leave  it  to  me." 

"I'll  see  you  upstairs,"  said  Pauline. 

"You  bet,"  said  Dipper.  "I  got  to  get  wise  to 
this." 

Some  unfamiliar  instinct  in  Talboyes  inspired  him 
to  gain  time  by  taking  a  call.  By  the  time  Lord  Mell- 
ingham gained  the  hall  Pauline  had  turned  the  bend 
of  the  stairs. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  cried  his  lordship.  "What  have 
we  here?  No  bad  news,  I  trust?" 

Mrs.  Tavistock  was  ushering  the  protesting  Dip- 
per into  the  study. 

"Wait  there,  wait.     You  shall  be  attended  to." 

"Sure,  madam,  but " 

"Hush.     Please  do  as  you  are  asked." 


THE  DIPPERS  223 

"I  want  to  see  my  wife." 

"Very  well.     Wait  there." 

He  shrugged  long-suffering  shoulders  and  com- 
plied. She  closed  the  door. 

"Pray,  Mrs.  Tavistock,  enlighten  me.  What " 

"Lord  Mellingham."  She  motioned  him  towards 
her.  Already  a  dozen  curious  guests  had  collected 
in  the  background.  "I  tried  to  tell  you  before  sup- 
per, but  you  started  talking  about  something  else. 
The  man  in  there  has  come  after  Mrs.  Dipper.  He 
follows  her  about  wherever  she  goes.  He  is  her  first 
husband.  He,  too,  is  a  dancer.  He  is  swayed  by 
jealousy.  I  have  heard  all  about  him  from  her.  She 
has  been  half-expecting  to  see  him  all  the  evening." 

Lord  Mellingham's  face  assumed  a  look  of  stern 
amazement. 

"He  has  actually  dared  to  invade " 

"Yes,  but  don't  deal  too  harshly  with  him.  I 
don't  think  he  quite  knows  what  he  is  doing.  I 
have  sent  his  wife  upstairs." 

His  lordship  turned  towards  the  study  door  with 
the  attitude  of  a  man  contemplating  physical  exertion. 

"No,  no,"  she  continued  in  her  confidential  whis- 
per. "Deal  gently  with  him.  He  is  a  pitiable  crea- 
ture." 

"Pitiable?"  echoed  his  lordship.  "Is  the  man  in- 
sane?" 

"His  wife  didn't  say  so,  but " 


224  THE  DIPPERS 

"His  wife?" 

"His  former  wife.  But  he  seems  strange  and  un- 
hinged. Deal  gently  with  him." 

His  lordship  sniffed  the  air  ominously. 

"Yes,  dear  lady,  but  all  this  is  very  unfortunate 

in  the  midst  of  my "  He  broke  off  and  turned 

to  the  doorway.  "Dear  friends,  pray — I  am  de- 
tained a  moment — proceed,  proceed,  I  beg." 

A  few  of  the  more  tactful  guests  withdrew.  Their 
vacancies  were  filled  immediately. 

Lord  Mellingham's  eye  rested  on  Talboyes,  who 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  throng,  a  breathless,  dis- 
consolate figure. 

"Come,  come,"  said  his  lordship.  "You,  sir,  kind- 
ly explain  this  phenomenal  affair." 

Talboyes  shifted  a  step  forward.  He  appeared 
bewildered  rather  than  intimidated. 

"It's  really  what — what  she — what  Mrs.  Tavis- 
tock  has  just  told  you.  You  see,  this  man — Dip- 
per  " 

"Dipper?    But  you  are  Dipper." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Talboyes.  "But,  you  see,  it's  not 
really  my  name " 

"Not — your — name  ?" 

"Not  really.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  in  a  way.  It's 
a  pneumos — pseumon — nom  de — alias  thing." 

"Come,  sir.  Oblige  me  by  answering  my  ques- 
tions in  a  proper  manner.  I  wish  to  obtain  a  definite 


THE  DIPPERS  225 

comprehension  of  these  egregious  circumstances* 
Pull  yourself  together,  sir.  Remove  your  sword." 

Talboyes  cast  a  quick  glance  of  mute  appeal  at 
Mrs.  Tavistock. 

"I  assumed  the  name,"  he  said. 

Imperceptibly  she  seemed  to  convey  assent. 

"But  you  are  the  man  who  goes  by  the  name  of 
Dipper,  are  you  not?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Talboyes,  brightening.  "Yes,  I'm 
the  man  who  goes  by  the  name  of  Dipper." 

"And  this  man?" 

"Well,  his — his  name's  Dipper  too.  He  was  the 
— the  first  Dipper,  so  to  speak." 

"Are  you  related?"  inquired  his  lordship,  becom* 
ing  more  and  more  amazed  and  emphatic. 

"No,"  replied  Talboyes.  "I— I  don't  think  so? 
except,  of  course,  we've  both  had  the  same  wife.  I 
don't  know  whether  that " 

Lord  Mellingham  gave  a  great  heave  of  im* 
patience. 

"Oh,  my  friends,"  he  said,  turning  once  to  the 
doorway,  "I  pray  you  resume.  Order  the  band  to 
play.  Harris,  draw  the  curtain,  I  beg." 

Inspired  by  a  happy  idea,  Talboyes  resumed  sud- 
denly : 

"You  see,  the  lord  is,  my  point — my  point,  my 
lord — this,  my  p — —  my  lord,  is  my  point.  Mrs,, 


THE  DIPPERS 


Dipper  —  my  wife  was  well-known  by  the  name  of 
Mrs.  Dipper  when  I  m  -  met  her  first;  so,  you 
see,  I  took  the  name  and  —  carried  on  with  her,  as 
it  were,  so  as  not  to  go  and  sort  of  ruin  her  reputa- 
tion, if  you  understand  what  I  mean  by  that." 

"Sir,"  said  his  lordship  sternly.  "I  am  not  moved 
by  the  smallest  desire  to  plump  the  incongruities  of 
your  domestic  career.  From  your  disordered  state- 
ment I  gather  that  you  assumed  the  name  of  Dip- 
per as  a  matter  of  professional  opportunism.  Such 
intelligence  leaves  me  cold.  What  I  desire  to  know, 
sir,  is  why  you  permit  this  man  to  shadow  you  un- 
bidden beneath  my  very  roof?" 

"How  can  I  help  it?"  cried  Talboyes  with  anima- 
tion. "I'm  not  his  keeper,  my  dear  sir  —  my  dear 
1  -  my  lord." 

Lord  Mellingham's  eyes  grew  wilder. 

"His  keeper?"  he  repeated  half-heartedly. 

"Yes.  I'm  very  sorry  you've  —  you've  got  him 
like  this.  I  didn't  want  him  here.  He's  the  last 
person  I  wanted  to  see." 

"But  is  it  his  practice  to  dog  you  in  this  monstrous 
fashion?" 

"Yes,"  said  Talboyes,  gaining  confidence,  "it  is. 
That  is  to  say,  wherever  Mrs.  Dipper  goes  he  gen- 
erally tries  to  —  to  —  to  dog." 

As  he  uttered  the  words  the  study  door  opened 
slowly.  The  guests  jostled  and  craned.  Lord  Mell- 


THE  DIPPERS  227 

ingham  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height — but  took 
two  paces  to  the  rear. 

"Gently,  gently,"  whispered  Mrs.  Tavistock. 

Hank  shambled  awkwardly  into  the  hall.  His 
face  was  working  with  a  thoughtful  chewing  motion. 
He  scanned  the  faces  around  him  with  scared  eyes, 
which  finally  fastened  on  the  commanding  figure  of 
the  host. 

"Say,  Lord,"  he  began.  "I  seem  to  have  caused 
some  shimozzle  here.  I  regret  it.  I  didn't  mean 
harm.  I  know  it's  a  bit  late  to  show  up,  but,  now 
I  am  here,  if  I  can  put  things  to  rights " 

"Gently,"  whispered  Mrs.  Tavistock. 

"The  only  means  by  which  you  can  do  so,"  said 
Lord  Mellingham,  "is  to  leave  this  house  quietly, 
and  at  once." 

"Say,  that's  a  bit  tough,  ain't  it?"  said  Dipper, 
"I  guess  I  don't  deserve  any  nosegays,  but  can't  I 
stop  and  show  you  my  dancing?" 

"No,  sir,"  replied  his  lordship.  "I  have  not  the 
faintest  desire  to  witness  your  dancing.  You  must 
begone,  my  good  fellow,  and  at  once." 

Dipper  jerked  his  long  chin  with  an  injured  air. 

"And  what  about  my  wife?"  he  inquired  more 
sharply. 

"Now  I  refuse  to  be  drawn  into  discussion  of  any 
sort.  Do  what  I  order  without  any  further  prevari- 
cation." 


228  THE  DIPPERS 

Dipper  turned  and  took  stock  of  Talboyes  with  a 
slow  nod.  Then  he  again  eyed  the  massive,  twitch- 
ing face  of  the  peer. 

"Say,  Lord,"  he  exclaimed  passionately.  "Do  you 
people  know  real  dancing  when  you  see  it?  Are  you 
a  married  man,  I  ask  you?  Would  you  stand  to  see 
your  wife  performing  unworthy  of  herself?" 

Lord  Mellingham  hesitated.  Suddenly  a  retro- 
spective gleam  of  enthusiasm  shone  forth  upon  his 
countenance.  Instinctively  he  grasped  the  lapels  of 
his  coat. 

"While  holding  myself  under  no  obligation  to  sat- 
isfy your  curiosity,"  he  declared,  "I  may  inform  you 
that  the  answer  to  the  first  part  of  your  question  is 
in  the  affirmative;  to  the  second  in  the  negative.  The 
third,  therefore,  does  not  arise." 

A  murmur  of  approbation  ran  through  the  ranks 
of  the  guests. 

Dipper  was  frankly  puzzled.  He  had  a  faint  sus- 
picion that  he  was  being  made  an  object  of  ridicule. 
He  returned  to  the  charge  with  less  assurance. 

"I  saw  her,"  he  said  with  smouldering  indignation 
in  his  voice,  "in  there  with  this — person.  As  to  what 
he  thought  he  was  doing  with  her,  search  me.  If  you 
want  to  see  dancing  done " 

"Purely  professional  jealousy!"  remarked  Tal- 
boyes, scratching  his  chin  unconcernedly. 


THE  DIPPERS  229 

"Jealousy!"  cried  Dipper.  "Say,  the  lady's  my 
wife  and " 

"Now,  sir,"  said  Lord  Mellingham  with  sudden 
energy,  "enough  of  you.  You  must  go." 

"Well,  let  me  see  my  wife  and  I'll  quit." 

Talboyes  glanced  at  Lord  Mellingham  unsteadily. 
The  peer's  eye  was  upon  him.  Talboyes  smiled  in 
magnanimous  scorn. 

"Pooh,  pooh,"  he  said. 

"No,  sir,"  said  his  lordship  with  finality,  "I  refuse 
to  allow  you  to  remain  here.  The  lady  to  whom  you 
refer  has  evidently  no  desire  to  entertain  your  ad- 
vances. She  has  fled  from  your  face." 

"I'll  quit,"  repeated  Hank.  "I've  no  wish  to  re- 
main. But  my  wife  is  here,  up  those  stairs,  and  I 
only  ask  to  see  her." 

He  advanced  towards  the  staircase  and  paused, 
indicating  Mrs.  Tavistock. 

"It  was  that  lady  who  sent  her  upstairs  and " 

Lord  Mellingham  was  upon  him,  a  mountain  of 
wrath. 

"Away,  go  away,"  he  burst  forth.  "I  am  fully 
aware  of  all  your  claims  and  motives.  I  refuse  ta 
allow  you  to  remain  one  instant  longer.  Your  un- 
warrantable trespass  has  been  treated  with  too  great 
a  leniency.  You  have  had  the  audacity  to  pester  my 
premises  in  the  midst  of  a  private  social  gathering 
without  justification  or  apology.  Away  with  you — 


230  THE  DIPPERS 

delay  another  moment  and  you  shall  be  flung  out — 
flung!  Away,  and  off  my  premises,  or  you  will  re- 
pent it." 

Hank  Dipper  shrank  from  the  vast,  purple  counte- 
nance with  a  dismal  frown  of  perplexity. 

"But,  say " 

"Go.    Go.    Away!" 

"Well,  can  you  beat  this?'*  said  Dipper  mourn- 
fully. 

The  question  was  unanswered.  Talboyes  stood 
with  a  set  face.  Mrs.  Tavistock's  head  was  lowered. 

"Out,  out!"  cried  his  lordship.  "Not  another 
word.  You  dare  to  come  stealing  into  my  private 
house  at  two  in  the  morning!  Is  that  article  part  of 
your  belongings?"  The  great  forefinger  quivered 
in  the  direction  of  the  wolfskin. 

"Sure,  that's  my  bag,  Lord.     I " 

"Then  remove  it  and  begone.  You  dare  to  come 
here,  outraging  the  privacy  of  my  establishment  and 
putting  down  your  bags  in  my  Armorial  Hall!  Out 
— go  out!" 

•  1  t»l  !•]  •  • 

Talboyes  found  himself  alone  in  the  study.  He 
sank  upon  the  Chesterfield.  He  was  only  sub-con- 
sciously aware  of  extreme  bodily  weariness.  He 
rested  his  head  upon  his  hands  and  tried  to  regulate 
the  riot  of  his  mind.  What  now?  Was  this  a  new 
lease  for  his  deplorable  intrigue  ?  How  long  was  it 


THE  DIPPERS  231 

to  continue?  He  thought  of  the  baffled,  dishonoured 
Dipper.  He  was  genuinely  sorry  for  the  fell  injustice 
he  had  witnessed.  Some  perversity  of  hope,  an  echo 
of  remorse  perhaps,  prompted  Talboyes  to  wish  that 
when  the  inevitable  disclosure  came  the  old  lord 
would  turn  and  rend  him  in  like  manner.  A  little 
chuckle  of  nervous  laughter  fluttered  in  his  throat 
at  the  very  thought  of  that  devastating  figure. 

Presently  Wattle  came  in  and  said  something — • 
something  half  reproachful  about  the  terrible  scan- 
dal, his  lordship's  lamentable  upset,  and  why  hadn't 
he  himself  been  allowed  a  hint  of  warning.  Talboye's 
only  response  was  to  crave  the  favour  of  a  whisky 
and  soda. 

Wattle  left  the  study  door  ajar.  To  the  troubled 
brain  of  Henry  Talboyes,  as  he  sat  dejectedly  on  that 
Chesterfield,  the  Armorial  Hall  seemed  to  reverber- 
ate with  eager  snatches  of  some  diabolical,  mocking 
chanty : 

"The  Dippers — yes,  but  which  of  the  Dippers?" 
"What,  another  of  the  Dippers  ?"  "How  many  Dip- 
pers are  there  then?"  "Was  he  talking  to  the  Dip- 
pers?" "Oh,  another  of  the  Dippers?"  "Then, 
which  of  the  Dippers?"  "Another  Dipper,"  "An  ex- 
tra Dipper,"  "A  dud  Dipper,"  "Which  is  the  proper 
Dipper?"  "What  is  all  the  scandal  about  the  Dip- 
pers?" "Dippers — the  Dippers — the  Dippers — the 
Dippers — the  Dippers " 


232  THE  DIPPERS 

Talboyes    closed   the    door   gently,    turned   and 
apostrophized  the  ceiling. 

"Oh,  cursed  night  I"  he  cried. 


CHAPTER  XI 

TALBOYES  got  his  whisky  and  soda.  He 
mixed  it  himself  and  felt  better — less  rattled. 
He  remained  in  isolation  upon  the  Chester- 
field. Nobody  came.  What  was  there  familiar  in 
that  sensation  of  sitting  and  waiting  gloomily  for 
something  unpleasant  to  happen?  Ah,  he  remem- 
bered what  the  association  was — the  cow-shed  at  the 
station  that  evening.  Would  that  he  had  never  quitted 
it;  he  was  a  thousand  times  better  off  in  the  cow-shed. 
His  vigil  would  have  been  nearly  over.  What  was 
that  early  train?  Three-fifteen,  Milk  and  Workmen 
— he  remembered  the  hour  distinctly.  It  had  made  an 
impression  on  him  at  the  time.  He  recalled  having 
congratulated  himself  on  not  being  a  workman. 

Three-fifteen!  He  glanced  up  at  the  heavy  study 
clock.  Suddenly  with  staring  eyes  he  sat  bolt  up- 
right. He  brought  his  hands  down  upon  his  knees 
with  a  loud  smack  of  decision.  He  would  flee. 

Yes,  he  would  flee  while  there  was  yet  time.  He 
would  shake  off  this  misery  at  all  costs.  His  clothes 
were  in  the  old  lord's  room.  He  would  go  up  and 

233 


234  THE  DIPPERS 

change.  He  must  let  Stella  know — he  could  manage 
that  somehow.  She  would  get  along  better  without 
him.  If  he  attempted  to  partake  in  the  general  ex- 
planations which  must  ensue,  he  would  only  involve 
matters  and  infuriate  the  harassed  peer.  He  could 
steal  out  of  the  house  somehow.  If  Hank  had  strolled 
in  and  watched  the  dancing  in  that  cool  manner, 
surely  to  goodness  anybody  could  sneak  out!  Once 
outside  he  would  be  safe.  Nobody  here  would  have 
heard  of  the  three-fifteen.  What  did  the  old  lord 
know  of  milk,  or  his  guests  of  workmen? 

Talboyes  left  the  study.  In  a  corner  of  the  Ar- 
morial Hall  Mrs.  Duckingham-Leape  was  addressing 
a  small  but  representative  body  of  local  newsmongers. 
There  was  an  eloquent  hush  as  he  passed  them.  He 
was  conscious  of  eyes  piercing  the  small  of  his  back 
as  he  mounted  the  first  flight  of  stairs.  They  no 
longer  worried  him.  He  felt  strangely  elated. 

Which  was  the  dressing-room?  He  must  not  be 
observed  now.  He  stole  down  the  passage  prying 
stealthily  around  him.  He  came  to  a  dead  stand- 
still and  stared  before  him,  incredulous.  His  bag! 
To  be  sure,  he  had  forgotten  his  bag;  he  had  left  it 
in  that  calamitous  Old  Bedroom.  But  the  gods  were 
undoubtedly  with  him.  They  had  deposited  both 
the  bag  and  a  grey  felt  hat  on  the  landing  outside. 
True,  the  bag  was  lying  disconsolately  on  its  beam 
ends  with  Starchfield  memoranda  strewn  around  it; 


THE  DIPPERS  235 

but  here,  at  any  rate,  were  his  indispensable  belong- 
ings delivered  without  a  word  into  his  hands. 

He  approached  silently  and  began  to  gather  up 
the  papers.  He  paused.  What  voice  was  that  re- 
sounding in  heated  altercation  from  the  bedroom? 
Talboyes  inclined  his  ear  to  the  door  and  listened. 
Great  Scot!  The  man  had  come  back.  Undaunted, 
Hank  had  returned  to  the  house  and  found  his  way 
upstairs.  The  bag  and  hat  had,  no  doubt,  left  the 
Old  Bedroom  shortly  after  he  had  entered  it 

This  settled  the  matter — flight,  flight!  Talboyes 
collected  the  papers  with  redoubled  haste,  and,  plac- 
ing the  hat  on  his  head,  carried  the  bag  with  both 
hands  to  the  old  lord's  dressing-room. 

He  entered  cautiously  and  switched  on  the  light. 
Was  this  the  room?  Yes,  but  where  were  his  clothes? 
He  gazed  anxiously  round  on  all  sides.  Where  were 
those  clothes?  This  was  that  old  fool  butler's  doing. 
He  placed  the  bag  carefully  on  the  floor  and  began 
to  hunt.  The  room  contained  a  multitude  of  gar- 
ments— yards  and  yards  of  the  very  best  trousers  in 
presses,  massive  coats,  swinging  like  black  bogies 
from  silver-mounted  hooks;  but  never  a  sign  of  Tal- 
boyes' honest  but  less  imposing  attire.  Here  was  a 
set-back ! 

"Oh,  Mr.  Talboyes!" 

Talboyes  gave  a  great  gulp  and  dived  out  from  a 
curtained  gallery  of  coats.  In  the  doorway  stood  a 


236  THE  DIPPERS 

young  woman — a  servant  evidently — whose  face 
seemed  to  be  a  remote  portion  of  the  dim,  respectable 
past. 

"How  are  you  and  who  do  you  know  my  name?" 

"I  am  very  well,  thank  you,  sir,  and " 

"No,  no.    Who  are  you  and  how?" 

"Oh,  sir,  I  understood  you  to  say  'how  are  you 
and  who' " 

"Well,  never  mind.  I'm  glad  you're  all  right. 
Now,  who  are  you?" 

"Me  name  is  Minnie." 

"Minnie?" 

"Yes,  sir — late  of  Miss  Starchfield's." 

"Good  heavens !" 

"But,  oh,  sir,  I  haven't  spoken  to  a  soul  of  you. 
I  see  you  when  you  first  arrive.  I  see  you  go  to  the 
Old  Bedroom  with  the  dancing  lady  and  I  spoke  to 
Mrs.  Tavistock  and  she  tells  me  of  your  double  life 
and  I'm  not  to  say  a  word." 

Talboyes  passed  his  hand  across  his  brow,  knock- 
ing the  hat  to  a  rakish  angle  on  the  back  of  his  head, 

"Where  are  my  clothes?  Do  you  know  that?'* 
he  asked,  appealingly. 

"Oh,  sir,  they  are  in  Mrs.  Tavistock's  room." 

"Why?" 

"Oh,  because  it  happened  in  this  way " 

"No,  no,  never  mind.  I  don't  want  to  know  why. 
Where  is  the  room?" 


THE  DIPPERS  237 

"Just  along  here,  sir." 

"Lead  the  way,  Millie." 

"Oh,  sir,  'Minnie'." 

"Minnie.  Lead  the  way." 

The  sanctuary  was  gained  without  mishap.  Tal- 
boyes'  clothes  lay  folded  on  a  chair.  He  rubbed  his 
hands. 

"Good!  We  progress,"  he  said.  "Now,  Millie, 
I  want  you  to  get  something  done  for  me." 

"Oh,  sir— if  I  can.     It's  'Minnie,'  sir." 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  you  can." 

"Oh,  sir,  what  is  it?" 

"I'm  just  going  to  tell  you.  Don't  interrupt  now. 
Time  is  pressing." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

"All  right.  Now  this  is  what  I  want  you  to  do, 
Millie." 

"Min — yes,  sir." 

"Oh,  don't  talk.  You  waste  time.  I  want  to  get 
my  clothes  changed  and " 

"Oh,  sir,  what  do  you  want  me  to  do.  I  don't 
think  I  ought  to " 

"Quiet  please,  please  quiet!  This  is  what  I  want 
you  to  do.  I  want  you  to  go  downstairs  and  get 
round  a  footman " 

"Round  a  footman?    Oh " 

"Yes,  yes,  and  tell  him  to  tell  Mrs.  Tavistock  that 
she's  wanted  up  here." 


238  THE  DIPPERS 

"Here,  sir?" 

"Yes,  here,  girl.  Where  do  you — no!  Look  here. 
Tell  the  footman  to  tell  Mrs.  Tavistock  that  you 
want  to  tell  her  something.  And  then  you  tell  her 
that  I'm  here  and  told  you  to  go  and  tell  her.  Now, 
you  can't  make  any  mistake.  So  go  on  and  do  that, 
will  you?  You  see,  I'm  in  a  great  hurry." 

"Oh,  sir,  1  am  to  tell  Mrs.  Tavistock  that  you 
are  here." 

"Yes,  yes,'*  cried  Talboyes,  struggling  out  of  Lord 
Mellingham's  coat.  "And,  look  herel"  he  added, 
as  Minnie  was  retreating.  "For  goodness'  sake, 
don't  you  go  and  tell  anybody  anything  about  this." 

"Oh,  I  won't,  sir.     Except  Mrs.  Tavistock,  that 


is." 


Talboyes  controlled  himself  with  a  supreme  ef- 
fort. 

"Good  girl,"  he  said.  "Good  girl!  That's  right. 
Good  girl!" 

If  Minnie  was  slow,  she  was  sure.  Two  minutes 
later  William  singled  out  Mrs.  Tavistock  from  the 
ball-room  doorway.  She  had  been  dancing  with 
Peter  Dollery  and  was  now  engaging  him  in  delight- 
ful conversation  at  the  side  of  the  room. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  had  watched  Lord  Mellingham 
return,  flushed  and  snorting,  to  the  ball-room  from 
the  eviction  of  Hank.  So  formidable  had  been  his 
aspect  that  the  accumulated  guests  had  parted  with- 


THE  DIPPERS  239 

out  hesitation  to  make  way  for  him;  only  to  reas- 
semble, like  quicksilver,  into  busy  little  gossiping 
groups.  He  had  marched  past  them,  vainly  endeav- 
ouring to  compose  his  features  into  a  normal  beam. 
In  passing  he  had  rallied  the  band  sharply:  "Play I 
Come,  play  you  up !" 

They  played.  Mrs.  Tavistock  disengaged  herself 
from  the  chattering  throng  in  the  doorway  and  took 
the  floor  with  Peter.  More  than  once  she  had  caught 
the  sound  of  her  own  name  in  the  excited  whispers 
around  her.  Whatever  her  next  move  in  this  wild 
game  might  be,  it  was  clear  that  her  first  was  to  as- 
sume complete  unconcern  in  the  Dipper  contretemps. 

She  danced  with  an  easy,  practised  step;  her 
thoughts  were  busy  elsewhere.  She  had  made  vows 
which  must  not  be  broken.  The  embittered,  outlawed 
Hank  prowled  in  the  drive.  Pauline,  expectant  and 
impatient,  lingered  still  in  the  Old  Bedroom.  What 
fevered  indiscretion  might  not  emanate  at  any  mo- 
ment from  the  study?  Reason  pointed  unsparingly 
to  the  conservatory,  whither  his  lordship  had  re- 
paired to  cool  his  agitated  brow;  but  who  could  listen 
to  Reason  at  this  stage? 

William  delivered  an  unemotional  but  hazy  state- 
ment concerning  a  request  from  Mrs.  Tavistock's 
maid  at  the  bend  of  the  staircase.  Appalling  possi- 
bilities presented  themselves  to  the  widow's  mind. 
She  left  Peter  with  a  half-expressed  apology.  He 


240  THE  DIPPERS 

watched  her  retreating  figure  with  a  slow  look  of 
perturbation  and  growing  curiosity.  More  trouble, 
no  doubt,  with  these  eternal  Dippers!  But  why 
should  Mrs.  Tavistock  be  again  involved?  It  was 
queer.  Peter  meditated  with  a  deepening  frown. 
Then  he  turned  impulsively  towards  the  conserva- 
tory. 


"Henry!    What  are  you  about?" 

"I  am  about  to  bolt,"  said  Talboyes. 

He  was  nearly  dressed.  Lord  Mellingham's  sec- 
ond best  coat  and  trousers  lay  on  the  floor.  Mrs. 
Tavistock's  soft  inquiring  eyes  searched  the  strained 
face  of  a  man  who  is  putting  on  a  collar  against  time. 

"To  bolt?    How?" 

"By  train.     Three-fifteen  —  Milk  and  Workmen 

—  from  Mellingham  station." 
"But  Henry  dear!" 

"Don't  try  and  dissuade  me,  Stella;  I  must  go.  I 
can't  face  another  moment  of  this.  I  simply  sent 
for  you  to  tell  you.  That  man  is  back  —  the  husband 

—  Dipper.    He  is  in  the  Old  Bedroom  with  his  wife." 
Mrs.  Tavistock  looked  up  sharply. 

"Hank  is?" 

Talboyes  nodded.    There  is  something  about  the 
fastening  of  a  bow  tie  which  precludes  speech. 
"How  did  he  get  there?" 


THE  DIPPERS  241 

"I  don't  care — know,  I  mean.  I  don't  care  if  i( 
comes  to  that." 

Mrs.  Tavistock  advanced  a  step.  She  tapped  her 
forehead,  trying  to  concentrate  her  thoughts,  as 
he  was  trying  to  button  his  waistcoat — against 
time. 

"I  suppose  the  wife  waited  on  the  landing  and 
overheard  all  that,  or  part  of  it,"  she  suggested. 

"I  should  think  she  heard  the  last  part  if  she  were 
in  the  lodge,"  said  Talboyes. 

"Catch  her  going  to  her  room!  Then  she  must 
have  run  out  and  got  him  in  somehow.  Oh,  my  stars, 
Henry !  What  a  mix-up  !" 

Talboyes  paused  in  his  toilet  and  regarded  her 
with  penitence. 

"I'm  not  being  shel — selfrish — selfish,  am  I, 
Stella?  Tell  me  you  don't  think  I'm  shelfish,"  he  said 
earnestly.  "You'll  clear  it  up  better  without  me.  I 
should  only  get  mudded — muddled.  You  can  tell 
the  old  lord.  He'll  take  it  from  you." 

She  nodded  disconsolately. 

"Yes,  but  why  will  he  take  it  from  me?  That's 
the  point.  Besides  why  should  I  tell  him?" 

"Stella?" 

"I  can't  help  saying  I  think  you  are  doing  yourself 
best  in  the  matter,  dear  Henry." 

"Oh,  Stella,  don't  say  that.  Just  when  I've  got 
one  boot  on.  All  right  then,  I'll  take  it  off  again." 


242  THE  DIPPERS 

Mrs.  Tavistock  watched  him  for  a  moment  in 
silence.  She  was  alert  as  though  listening. 

"No,"  she  said  quickly.  "Put  it  on  again.  Henry, 
I  am  coming  with  you." 

He  tossed  his  remaining  boot  into  the  air  and 
caught  it. 

"Splendid!"  he  exclaimed.  "But  you'll  have  to 
hurry  up.  Oh,  this  is  great !  But  what  about  your 
clothes  ?  You  can't  travel  by  the  Milk  and  Workmen 
in  that  get-up." 

"I  only  want  a  hat  and  cloak." 

"Right!  Oh,  this  is  magnificent.  After  all,  why 
should  you  stay  and  face  all  the  horrible  indignity 
from  this  great  rich,  loathsome  place?" 

Mrs.  Tavistock  hesitated.  Her  eyes  were  bright 
with  excitement. 

"I've  a  good  mind  to  do  it,"  she  said. 

"Do  it?  Rather.  I'm  doing  it,"  said  Tal- 
boyes. 

"My  luggage,  though.  How  could  we  man- 
age " 

Talboyes'  enthusiasm  was  momentarily  damped. 

"Oh,  we  can't  take  it.    You  must  leave  it." 

"Helen,  of  course!"  she  cried  with  a  snap  of  the 
fingers.  "She  can  bring  them  to-morrow.  I'll  go 
and  tell  her." 

"Tell  who?  I  say,  look  out  what  you're  doing, 
Stella." 


THE  DIPPERS  243 

"It's  all  right.  I  won't  be  long.  What  time  did 
you  say  the  train  was?" 

"Three-fifteen.  We  shall  have  to  look  sharp. 
It's  the  dickens  of  a  way  to  the  station." 

"Three-fifteen?  Oh,  there's  plenty  of  time.  You 
finish  dressing  and  wait  here.  I'll  be  back  in  a  mo- 
ment." 

She  crossed  quickly  to  the  door. 

"Oh,  Henry!"  She  halted.  "Do  you  realise 
what  we  are  doing?  Can  we  do  it?" 

"I'm  going  to  do  it,  if  I  have  to  jump  out  of  the 
window,"  he  said.  "I  can  do  anything  to  leave  this 
place  behind  me." 

She  glanced  back  at  him,  nodded  eagerly  and  was 
gone. 

Lord  Mellingham's  agitated  brow  was  cooler. 
Peter  found  him  in  a  basket  chair  in  the  conserva- 
tory in  the  company  of  Mr.  Harris,  who  had  evi- 
dently been  prescribing  for  him. 

"Look  here,  uncle,"  said  Peter.  "Do  you  know 
that  Mrs.  Tavistock  has  just  been  sent  for  again  from 
upstairs?  It's  those  everlasting  Dipper  people.  Why 
they  should  be  allowed  to  pester  her  life  out  I  can't 
see." 

Lord  Mellingham  drew  himself  slowly  upright 
in  his  chair. 

"They  take  advantage  of  her  kindness,"  pursued 


244  THE  DIPPERS 

Peter.  "And  what  about  all  this  scandalous  row  in 
the  middle  of  your  dance.  She  was  sort  of  lugged 
into  that.  It's  monstrous." 

His  lordship  frowned  deeply. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  Peter,  "there's  something  pretty 
dicky  about  that  Dipper  business." 

"Yes,  I  think  so  too,"  said  Mr.  Harris. 

"I  have  experienced  sufficient  annoyance  from  that 
quarter,"  said  Lord  Mellingham.  "I  refuse  definite- 
ly to  attempt  any  supervision  of  the  ordering  of  a 
menage  which  appears  to  be  little  short  of  grossly 
immoral.  Your  complaint  with  regard  to  Mrs. 
Tavistock  is  of  a  different  nature."  He  arose  with 
grim  determination.  "Follow  me  to  my  study,"  he 
said. 

"Ah,  the  man  is  no  longer  here,"  continued  his 
lordship,  as  the  three  entered  the  study.  "No  doubt 
he,  too,  has  gone  upstairs  to  his  wife." 

"To  his  wife?"  echoed  Peter.  "Do  you  know, 
uncle,  I  believe  that  is  all  an  absolute  yarn.  I  be- 
lieve the  man  you  bunged  out  was  the  genuine  Dip- 
per. He  looked  it.  This  fat  chap  who's  been  danc- 
ing hasn't  the  faintest  resemblance  to  the  ordinary 
run  of  professional." 

"Now,"  seconded  Mr.  Harris. 

"But,"  objected  the  peer,  "Mrs.  Tavistock  has 
ascertained — — " 

"Mrs.  Tavistock  has  been  duped,"   cried  Peter. 


THE  DIPPERS  245 

"They've  got  hold  of  her  and  sprung  some  piteous 
yarn  which,  in  the  kindness  of  her  heart,  she  has 
believed  and  repeated.  Besides,  as  I  say,  this  man 
doesn't  look  like  a  dancer.  I  thought  so  the  moment 
I  saw  him.  Look  at  his  manner  and  the  way  he 
talks  and  everything.  He's  not  a  Yank;  the  bunged- 
out  Dipper  was  a  Yank." 

"Oh,  cannot  you  broach  your  argument  in  Anglo- 
Saxon,  boy?" 

"My  point  is,  uncle,  that  this  man  is  not  a  profes- 
sional dancer  at  all.  He  seemed  to  me  in  every  way 
to  be  more  like  an  ordinary — well,  an  ordinary  gen- 
tleman." 

"Gentleman?"  cried  his  lordship  in  horror,  "are 
you  intoxicated,  young  man?" 

"Ow,  don't  be  an  ass,  Peter,"  said  Mr.  Harris. 

"Moreover,"  continued  Lord  Mellingham,  "the 
man  you  suspect  has  been  dancing  to  admiration.  All 
my  guests  are  delighted  with  his  display." 

"He  didn't  dance  at  all,"  said  Peter.  "He  simply 
played  the  ass.  You  could  have  done  what  he  did." 

"You  infer  that  he  is  not  Dipper?" 

"Exactly.  I  think  he  knew  Dipper  was  going  to 
6e  late,  so  came  to  take  his  place  by  arrangement  with 
the  wife.  "Why  should  they  have  troubled  Mrs.  Tav- 
istock  with  all  their  inner  history?  It's  obvious." 

Lord  Mellingham  gasped. 

"What  is  your  opinion,  Harris?"  he  murmured. 


246  THE  DIPPERS 

Mr.  Harris  brooded  over  the  problem,  stroking 
his  moustache. 

"Any  'ow,"  he  said,  "  'e  can  be  identified,  can't  'e? 
What  about  the  band?  The  band  '11  know  who's 
Dipper  and  who's  not  Dipper." 

"Go,"  said  Lord  Mellingham  to  his  nephew,  "and 
bring  that  band  conductor  to  me.  I  will  adopt  your 
test,  Harris." 

Peter  left  the  room — keen  on  his  quarry. 

"The  suggestion  that  Mrs.  Tavistock  has  been 
victimized  in  the  face  of  the  entire  neighbourhood 
fills  me  with  disquiet,  Harris,"  murmured  the  peer. 

The  leading  negro  was  ushered  in.  He  stood  and 
regarded  his  patron  with  a  broad  grin,  which  by  no 
means  mollified  that  fermenting  personage. 

"Come,  sir,"  said  his  lordship.  "I  am  engaged 
upon  a  delicate  investigation.  Tell  me  without  waste 
of  words — did  you  enjoy  a  previous  acquaintance 
with  this  man  Dipper?" 

The  negro  did  not  hesitate.  Dipper  had  proved 
a  success  that  evening.  It  was  practically  a  duty  to 
be  on  terms  of  lifelong  friendship  with  all  the  big- 
gest noises  of  the  dance  hall. 

"Sure,"  said  the  negro. 

"He  means  'yes,'  "  said  Peter. 
*-  "Sure  I  mean  yep,"  said  the  negro. 

"For  how  long  a  space  of  time  have  you  known 
him?"  asked  his  lordship,  frowning. 


THE  DIPPERS  247 

"Oo,  gee — some  while,"  said  the  negro. 

Lord  Mellingham  smote  his  desk. 

"Kindly  refrain,  sir,  from  expressing  yourself  in! 
the  phraseology  of  the  jungle,"  he  cried.  "You  have 
known  this  person  Dipper,  the  man  who  Has  been 
performing  here  to-night,  personally  for  a  period 
of  years?  Am  I  correct?" 

"You  bet,"  said  the  negro,  fidgeting. 

"There  you  are,"  put  in  Mr.  Harris.  "He  can 
identify  'im." 

"Are  you  sure  he  is  Dipper?"  asked  Peter  eagerly. 

"Why  surely,"  said  the  negro.  "Gee,  yes,  Dip- 
per— why,  surely.  Why,  you  bet  yer." 

"Oh,  withdraw,"  said  his  lordship  testily. 
''Enough !  Go.  You  nauseate  me." 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Peter,  as  the  negro  willingly 
departed.  "That  great  lout  isn't  worth  a  button  to 
anyone.  I  still  stick  to  my  opinion  that  there's  some- 
thing wrong  about  the  Dippers.  What  are  they 
trying  to  get  Mrs.  Tavistock  to  do  for  them  now? 
If  you  don't  go  and  see,  uncle,  I  will." 

"Contain  yourself,  Peter.  That  witness,  however 
repellent,  entirely  confuted  your  theory.  We  have 
no  certainty  that  Mrs.  Tavistock  is  with  the  Dippers 
at  this  moment.  She  is,  quite  possibly,  in  her  own 
room."  • 

"Well,  why  not  get  hold  of  her,  uncle,  and  find 
out  all  she  knows  about  these  beastly  people?" 


248  THE  DIPPERS 

Lord  Mellingham  groaned  faintly. 

"I  have  been  endeavouring  to  'get  hold  of  her' 
as  you  express  it  the  whole  evening,"  he  said.  "Wait. 
I  will  ascertain  whether  she  is  in  her  room." 

He  stalked  across  to  his  private  telephone  switch- 
board. 

Talboyes  leapt.  The  silence  of  the  bedroom  was 
broken  by  the  sudden  buzzing  challenge  of  a  devilish 
mechanical  sentry.  He  grabbed  the  receiver  and 
silenced  the  threatening  sound;  but  he  gathered  his 
wits  just  in  time  to  prevent  himself  uttering  the  in- 
stinctive "Hallo."  Next  moment  he  was  hovering 
in  hopeless  indecision,  receiver  to  ear.  He  placed 
the  palm  of  his  unoccupied  hand  over  the  mouth- 
piece— he  knew  not  why.  Then  he  laid  the  receiver 
gingerly  on  the  table.  Indefinite  rumblings  still 
seemed  to  vibrate  within  it.  He  could  almost  detect 
in  them  the  repetition  of  the  words  he  had  heard: 
"Ah,  dear  lady,  you  are  there?  Ah,  so  you  are  there, 
dear  lady?" 

"She  is  there,"  said  Lord  Mellingham,  turning  in 
triumph  to  his  nephew.  "She  does  not  reply,  but 
she  is  there.  She  has  removed  her  receiver." 

"That's  queer,"  said  Peter.  "You'd  better  go  and 
see  what  it  means." 

"Go  to  her  private  room,  boy?" 

"Certainly.  She  seems  to  want  to  answer  but 
doesn't.  There  must  be  something  wrong.  Dipper 


THE  DIPPERS  249 

may  be  strangling  her.    Anyhow,  seriously,  uncle,  if 
you  won't  go  and  see  what's  up,  I'll  go  myself." 
"Control  yourself,"  said  his  lordship.     "I  will 

go." 

"Shall  I  come  too?" 

"Certainly  not.  Remain  here — and  you  also, 
Harris,  I  pray.  I  will  return  and  report  what  is 
afoot." 

Talboyes  leapt  again,  hesitated,  but  made  no  reply 
to  the  rather  timid  rap  at  the  bedroom  door.  It 
might  only  be  that  maid — Millie,  or  whatever  her 
name  was.  It  might  be 

"Dear  lady?    Are  you  within?" 

With  a  flash  of  inspiration  Talboyes  kicked  the 
visitor's  coat  and  trousers  under  the  bed.  He  shot 
a  quick  glance  at  the  door  of  the  bathroom,  opened 
it  and  fled  within.  With  a  second  flash  of  inspiration 
he  made  a  furious  attack  on  the  various  contrivances 
of  the  bath.  He  turned  taps  indiscriminately.  Water 
burst  forth  from  unsuspected  sources.  A  brief  but 
terrific  downpour  from  the  shower  missed  his  head 
by  inches.  He.  lunged  at  the  control  levers  and, 
from  a  latent  perforation  beneath,  the  "tornado" 
spent  its  hissing  volume  against  the  opposite  wall. 
The  shower  still  dripped  plaintively.  The  "wave,"  the 
"swash,"  the  "plunge,"  the  "gurge,"  each  in  turn 
exhibited  its  startling  properties  to  the  splashed  and 
baffled  investigator;  while  his  boots  began  to  glow 


250  THE  DIPPERS 

with  the  subtle  calefaction  of  the  electric  bath-mat. 

Above  the  rush  of  waters  he  seemed  to  gain  some 
vague  impression  of  apologetic  withdrawal  from  the 
bedroom.  It  was  some  time,  however,  before  ne 
could  turn  the  water  off  effectively.  It  ceased  to 
"surf"  only  to  rush  with  redoubled  vigour  from  the 
"gurge."  To  the  very  last  the  shower  continued  to 
operate  with  sudden  gushes  and  a  horrid,  moaning 
whistle.  At  length  Talboyes  peered  cautiously  round 
the  bathroom  door.  The  bedroom  was  unoccupied. 

His  first  move  was  to  Mrs.  Tavistock's  towel- 
horse.  That  lady,  returning  anon,  discovered  him 
seated  on  the  bed  rubbing  his  ears. 

"We've  missed  that  train,"  he  moaned.  "More 
frightfulness  has  occurred.  The  old  lord  has  been 
up.  I  had  to  pretend  you  were  having  a  bath." 

"Did  he  see  you,"  she  asked  with  anxiety. 

"See  me?     I  should  hope  not." 

"You  didn't  speak?" 

"Speak?  No.  It  wouldn't  have  mattered.  I 
could  safely  have  sung  in  that  Niagara  of  a  place. 
Are  you  ready?  We  must  go." 

"I've  got  to  pack  after  all,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock. 
"Come  on;  help  me." 

"Pack?    But  my  dear  Stella " 

"Yes,  I  couldn't  speak  to  Helen.  She  had  got 
a  man  named  Pink  into  the  conservatory.  I  couldn't 
ruin  poor  Helen's  one  chance." 


THE  DIPPERS  251 

Mrs.  Tavistock  was  already  on  her  knees  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  where  her  small  portmanteau 
and  dressing-case  lay. 

"But  this  is  madness,"  cried  Talboyes  desperately. 
"Who  is  Helen?  What  is  all  this?  How  can  we 
possibly  take  your  boxes?  How  can  we  possibly 
catch  the  train  in  any  case?" 

"Don't  talk,  Henry  dear.  Pack,  pack.  I'll  pack. 
You  hand  me  the  things.  Those  things  out  of  the 
wardrobe  first." 

"But  Stella,  this  is  madness." 

"We  shall  have  to  get  a  car,  that's  all." 

"A  car,  yes.  But  how  on  earth  can  we  get  a  car?" 
asked  Talboyes,  enveloped  in  flowing  robes  from  the 
wardrobe. 

"Pack,  dear.  Put  them  all  down  here  beside  me. 
There  are  plenty  of  cars  outside." 

"But  we  can't  go  rousing  suspicion  like  that.  Be- 
sides, how  can  we  take  somebody  else's  car?" 

"Just  to  the  station?     Why  not?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  if  it  comes  to  that,"  replied 
Talboyes.  "What  about  this  chest  of  drawers?" 

We  must  catch  the  train  somehow.  If  we  could 
get  a  car  without  having  to  stop  and  bargain  for  it 
so  much  the  better.  Hand  me  all  those  things  off 
the  dressing-table.  Henry,  Mr.  Dipper  has  got  a 
car." 

"Yes?    But " 


252  THE  DIPPERS 

"Come  along,  pack,  pack!  Oh,  don't  drop  the 
hairbrushes,  dear." 

"Do  you  suggest  that  we  use  Dipper's  car?" 

"Yes.  Now  the  chest  of  drawers.  We've  done 
a  great  deal  for  the  Dippers  between  us.  I'm  sure 
they  wouldn't  grudge  us  a  little  favour.  Try  and 
bring  all  those  things  in  one  handful." 

"But  who  the  dickens  is  to  drive  it?" 

"I  think  it's  only  a  two-seater.  You  can  drive 
quite  well.  All  my  shoes  are  in  that  little  cupboard 
thing." 

Talboyes  pulled  a  drawer  completely  out  of  its 
seating. 

"Yes,  I  can  drive  after  a  fashion,"  he  said. 

"You  drive  very  nicely  I  always  think,"  said  Mrs. 
Tavistock.  "We  must  get  away  somehow — that's 
obvious.  It's  no  good  half  doing  a  thing.  It's 
against  my  principles.  If  we've  made  up  our  minds 
to  a  thing,  do  let  us  do  it  thoroughly.  Boots !" 

"But  what  do  we  do  with  the  car  when  we  get  to 
the  station?" 

"Well,  we  can't  drive  it  back,  can  we?" 

"Can  we  leave  it  there?" 

"What  else  can  we  do?  Leave  that  cloak,  I'm 
going  to  wear  it.  Ah,  we're  getting  on.  But  if 
we  don't  take  his  car  to  the  station  I  think  we  may 
miss  the  train." 

"I'm  not  going  to  miss  that  train,"  said  Talboyes. 


THE  DIPPERS  253 

"Then  there's  nothing  else  for  it,"  said  Mrs, 
Tavistock. 

"But  how  can  we  let  him  know?  By  Jove,  Stella, 
this  is  not  a  bad  idea.  We  can  catch  the  train  quite 
comfortably  in  a  car  if  we  hurry  like  mad.  The 
station's  no  distance.  But  how  can  we  let  him 
know?" 

"Have  you  left  anything  in  the  wardrobe?  Stick; 
all  those  things  in  my  sponge-bag,  there's  a  dear. 
We  could  leave  him  a  note,  couldn't  we?" 

"A  note?  Do  I  put  these  teethbrush — tooth- 
brushes  ?" 

"Yes,  all  in  the  sponge-bag  will  do.  Yes,  a  note — 
'Mr.  Dipper's  car  is  at  the  station' — and  leave  it 
here  behind  us." 

"Yes.  Good  idea,  Stella.  After  all,  it  would  be 
the  polite  thing  to  do." 

"Write  it  now,  while  I  finish  off  the  packing." 

"What  on?" 

"Oh,  Henry  dear!  On  a  piece  of  paper.  Are  you 
sure  you  emptied  the  boot-cupboard?" 

"I  haven't  got  a  piece  of  paper." 

"Tear  a  bit  out  of  the  lining  of  one  of  the 
drawers." 

"I  haven't  got  a  pencil." 

"You've  got  a  fountain  pen.  I  gave  it  to 
you." 

"Oh  yes." 


254  THE  DIPPERS 

Kneeling  in  the  corner,  Mrs.  Tavistock  put  the 
finishing  touches  to  her  packing  with  record  deftness 
and  rapidity.  As  she  locked  her  dressing-case  she 
looked  up  keenly. 

"Finished,  Henry?" 

"No,"  was  the  reply.  "No,  it  was  a  kind  thought 
but  I'm  afraid  we  shan't  we  able  to  do  it." 

She  rose  and  joined  him.  The  drawer-paper  was 
decorated  in  several  places  with  the  dual  impressions 
bf  a  dry  nib. 

"Oh,  dear,"  she  said.  "This  was  rather  a  neces- 
sary part  of  the  programme.  Shake  the  thing,  dear 
Henry." 

"I  have  been  shaking  till  all  is  blue — or  rather 
isn't  blue.  I  do  hate  these  infernal  pens.  Of  course, 
this  one  you  gave  me  is  a  beauty  really,  but " 

"Hurrah!"  she  interrupted.  "Ink!"  A  gigantic 
blot  had  fallen  on  the  middle  of  the  paper. 

"It  still  won't  write,"  said  Talboyes. 

"Use  the  blot  as  a  reservoir  of  course,"  she  di- 
rected. "Dear  Henry,  why  can't  you  use  a  fountain 
pen  like  everybody  else  does?" 

The  task  was  completed.  Mrs.  Tavistock  left  the 
announcement,  together  with  largess  for  Minnie  upon 
her  dressing-table. 

"Now  we've  got  to  get  all  these  things  down- 
stairs without  being  seen,"  she  said. 

".We  can't,"  said  Talboyes. 


THE  DIPPERS  255 

"We  must.  You  take  my  two  things.  I'll  bring 
your  bag." 

"Stella,  you  must  be  awfully  careful  of  that  bag. 
It's  weak  at  the  harsp." 

"At  the  what,  dear?" 

"Oh,  the  clip  thing  that  clips  it.  Hold  it  witK 
both  hands." 

"All  right.  You  go  first,  Henry.  Creep!  And 
when  you  come  to  the  bend  of  the  staircase  wait  and 
choose  a  moment  when  there's  no  one  walking  about 
the  Armorial  Hall.  I'll  follow  and  meet  you  out- 
side. Creep,  Henry!" 

Talboyes  took  a  firm  hold  of  an  article  of  luggage 
in  each  hand,  gazed  at  her  with  fond  intensity  for 
one  moment,  girded  up  his  loins  and  crept. 


Lord  Mellingham  found  the  study  unoccupied  on 
his  return  from  Mrs.  Tavistock's  bedchamber.  Peter 
and  Harris  had  failed  to  keep  their  tryst.  Dancing 
had  proved  too  strong  a  counter-attraction  for  Peter. 
At  length,  however,  both  his  lordship's  counsellors 
put  in  an  appearance. 

"You  were  wrong,  boy,"  said  the  peer.  "Mrs. 
Tavistock  was  not  with  the  Dippers  at  all.  She  has, 
in  point  of  fact,  retired." 

"Oh,  rot!"  said  Peter. 

"Sir!" 


256  THE  DIPPERS 

"She  wouldn't  have  crept  off  to  bed  like  that,  as 
if  there  was  some  deadly  secret  about  it,"  argued 
Peter. 

"She  has  retired,  I  repeat,"  said  his  lordship.  "I 
have  satisfied  myself  on  that  score." 

Peter  frowned  across  thoughtfully  at  Mr.  Harris. 

"Did  you  go  along  to  the  Dippers?"  asked  Peter. 

"No,  I  did  not,"  replied  his  lordship  shortly. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  now?" 

"Will  you  kindly  abstain  from  this  querulous  and 
mandatory  attitude?" 

"But,  look  here,  uncle,  aren't  you  going  to  have 
them  down  again?  They've  only  done  two  piffling 
turns.  Have  them  down  again  and  tell  them  that 
this  time  they  are  not  to  footle  about  like  that  but 
to  give  us  a  proper  ball-room  stunt.  Then  we  can 
watch  the  man  and  judge  for  ourselves  whether  he 
has  any  pretensions  to  being  a  pukka  dancer.  Harris 
and  I  can  soon  tell  you  that,  and  it  will  decide  the 
whole  business  once  and  for  all." 

"Good  egg!"  said  Mr.  Harris.  "Do  that,  old 
boy.  That'll  clinch  it  one  way  or  the  other.  And, 
after  all,  you  'aven't  'ad  your  money's  worth  out  of 
'em  yet." 

His  lordship  groaned  with  annoyance. 

"Oh,  I  am  becoming  so  cross,"  he  said.  "Very 
well.  Let  us  conclude  this  vexatious  matter  in  the 
way  you  suggest." 


THE  DIPPERS  257 

He  manipulated  the  stoppers  of  his  switchboard 
with  the  pugnacity  of  exasperation. 

"That  is  Mrs.  Dipper,  is  it  not?  It  is  Lord  Mel- 
lingham  who  is  speaking  to  you." 

"Oh,  dear!  Yes?"  replied  the  arch  tones  of 
Pauline. 

"Is  your  husband  with  you?" 

"Er — yes.    At  least — which  husband?" 

Lord  Mellingham  snorted.  » 

"Your  legal  husband,  madam." 

"Yes.  He's  here  now.  I  went  and  fetched  him 
up." 

"Ah.  You  have  not  yet  completed  your  obliga- 
tions to  me." 

"Oh,  dear!     What  have  I  done  now?" 

"I  desire  you  and  your  husband  to  descend  and 
dance " 

"Oh,  then  I'm  forgiven?" 

"Yes,  yes.  I  do  not  wish  to  refer  again  to  a 
most  regrettable  and  unfortunate  episode." 

"But  you  heard  the  truth  about  it?" 

"I  did.  I  have  no  wish  to  discuss  the  matter 
further." 

"Oh,  good  thing  you  don't  take  it  more  to  heart. 
They  explained  it  all  to  you,  did  they?" 

"Yes.  The  subject  is  closed.  You  and  your  hus- 
band will  kindly " 


»5'8  THE  DIPPERS 

"Oh,  but  please  tell  me  what  happened  to  the 
other  man?  Where  is  he  now?" 

"I  drove  him  away,  madam.  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  permitted  such  an  outrage  to  go  unheeded?" 

A  sharp  laugh  was  Pauline's  comment. 

"Rather  bad  luck  on  him  really,  you  know?"  she 
added.  "He  meant  well." 

"Enough  of  this,"  said  Lord  Mellingham.  "You 
and  your  husband  will  kindly  descend  and  dance.  On 
this  occasion  my  guests  desire  to  witness  a — a  juzz." 

"A  what?"   ' 

"A  modern  ball-room  dance,"  said  his  lordship, 
prompted  from  the"  rear  of  the  study.  "Does  that  lie 
within  your  powers?"  he  asked  meaningly. 

"Well,  rather,"  said  Pauline.  "You'll  get  the 
proper  thing  this  time  of  course.  When  do  you 
want  us?" 

"H'm.  Another  dance  seems  to  have  commenced. 
Kindly  appear  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  time.  And 
mark  what  I  say.  We  require  a  real  juzz.  Not  a 
pantomimic  extravaganza." 

Pauline  laughed  again. 

"All  right  we'll  be  down  at  a  quarter  past  three," 
she  said. 

"Ah!  Three-fifteen.  I  will  make  the  necessary 
preparations,"  said  Lord  Mellingham,  somewhat  ap- 
peased. 

"Come  on,  Hank,"  cried  Pauline,  hanging  up  the 


THE  DIPPERS  259 

receiver.  "Get  busy  with  those  glad  rags.  The  old 
lord  has  got  wise  to  everything  and  he's  taken  it 
like  a  fat  angel  and  we're  to  go  down  and  give  a 
proper  turn.  So  quit  all  that  pining  and  get  busy, 
kid." 

Lord  Mellingham  turned  with  injured  severity  to 
his  nephew. 

"Your  romantic  theory  is  completely  exploded, 
boy,"  he  declared. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  CROWD  of  guests  lingered  at  tKe  ball-room 
end  of  the  hall,  conferring  a  parting  apprecia- 
tion upon  the  vehicular  refreshment-stand  and 
discussing  the  eventful  evening  with  speculations  so 
imaginative  and  engrossing  that  the  cowering,  bag- 
laden  figure  tiptoed  unnoticed  from  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  into  the  vestibule.  Talboyes  could  scarce  be- 
lieve his  good  fortune.  Had  he  escaped?  Beyond 
the  open  door  in  front  of  him  stood  the  trees  and 
terraces  of  Freedom,  faintly  outlined  in  the  first 
gleams  of  daylight.  He  glanced  fearfully  back, 
skidded  for  one  giddy  moment  on  the  tiger-skin,  re- 
covered himself  with  a  gasp  of  suspense  and  blun- 
dered on  into  the  drive. 

To  his  right  stood  a  shadowy  array  of  cars,  their 
eyes  glowing  wanly  in  the  misty  dawn.  To  his  left, 
in  solitary  degradation  at  the  edge  of  the  drive,  was 
the  battered  two-seater  of  Hank  Dipper. 

Talboyes  advanced  towards  it  at  a  crouching  trot, 
conscious  of  the  suspicious  scrutiny  of  an  idling  group 
of  chauffeurs.  At  the  rear  of  the  car  was  what  looked 

260 


THE  DIPPERS  261 

like  a  closed  cupboard.  Holding  the  dressing-case 
between  his  knees,  he  wrenched  the  cupboard  open. 
It  unfolded  itself  readily  into  a  dicky-seat.  With 
the  clumsiness  of  haste  he  raised  the  portmanteau  and 
the  dressing-case  into  position.  Then  he  turned  with 
a  sharp  catch  of  the  breath.  Mrs.  Tavistock,  her 
grey  travelling  cloak  buttoned  to  the  neck  and  her 
hat  crushed  and  shrouded  beneath  a  long,  white 
motor  veil,  stood,  hovering  stealthily  at  his  side, 
like  some  modernized  Lady  Macbeth  clutching  her 
guilty  secret  in  a  Gladstone  bag. 

"Good,  Stella!"  said  Talboyes  breathing  again. 
"Get  in  and  hold  that  bag  on  your  knees  if  you  can. 
I'll  start  the  car." 

She  obeyed  in  silence.  He  darted  round,  leant 
over  the  wing  and  operated  the  switch.  Then,  with 
a  quick  puzzled  frown,  he  examined  the  steering- 
wheel  and  performed  indecisive  rasping  actions  with 
the  levers  carried  on  its  bevelled  edge. 

"These  things  aren't  marked,"  he  complained  im- 
patiently. "Throttle  and  spark,  I  suppose,  but 
Heaven  knows  where  they  go." 

He  looked  sharply  back  in  the  direction  of  the 
front  door,  then,  dodging  forward  again,  stooped 
and  grasped  the  starting-handle. 

Mrs.  Tavistock,  too,  looked  back;  but  the  action 
had  none  of  his  fluttering  timidity.  She  was  sitting 
upright,  calm.  Her  eyes  surveyed  the  exterior  of 


262  THE  DIPPERS 

the  Hall  with  lingering  approval  and  rested  for  the 
space  of  a  few  seconds  on  the  laggard  line  of  cars 
with  a  glance  of  casual  unconcern  for  their  dawdling, 
yawning  sentries. 

But  her  attention  was  speedily  restored  to  the  oper- 
ations of  Talboyes. 

He  was  bent  double.  His  eyes  were  closed  in 
desperate  concentration.  His  teeth  were  clenched 
and  he  was  wreaking  all  the  shreds  of  his  spent  ener- 
gies in  spasms  of  bootless  swinging. 

"Oh,  Henry!"  she  cried.  "Don't  say  you  can't 
do  it." 

He  shook  his  head  and  gasped  in  the  midst  of 
his  labour. 

"Never  talk  to  a  man  who  is  doing  this,"  he 
said. 

"But  you're  not  doing  it,  dear,"  she  said.  "Won't 
you  flood  the  something — whatever  it  is  they  do." 

He  raised  a  countenance  piteous  in  sweat  and 
anguish. 

"It's  those  Infernal  things  on  the  thing — I  haven't 
got  them  right,"  he  said,  indicating  the  steering  wheel 
with  a  nervous  finger.  "I  wish  you'd  twiddle  them 
a  bit,  will  you?" 

She  obeyed  with  vague  raspings. 

He  bent  again  to  the  task. 

"Twiddle  now — while  I — swing,"  he  directed. 

There  was  no  result.    Talboyes  paused  for  a  few 


THE  DIPPERS  263 

brief  seconds,  gathered  his  failing  strength  with  the 
last  struggling  desperation  of  a  drowning  man,  and 
swung — swung  to  the  limit  of  endurance.  The  regu- 
lar, sucking  hiss  of  stubborn  valves  alone  rewarded 
him. 

Again  he  paused.  The  veins  of  his  forehead  were 
throbbing  madly.  He  shook  a  fearful  choking  cough 
from  his  throat. 

"Henry " 

"Oh — don't,  Stella — we  must,  we  must." 

"Then  do  try  flooding  the  thing  inside  the  front 
part.  I  know  it's  the  right  thing  to  do." 

He  released  a  catch  in  the  bonnet  A  sheet  of 
tin  came  away  into  his  face.  He  groped  within, 
found  the  needle,  jerked  it  furiously.  Petrol  spat 
forth.  He  replaced  the  metal  sheet  somehow.  His 
actions  seemed  to  him  like  those  of  a  man  on  a  bed 
of  fever. 

"Now  swing  once  more  if  you  can.  Our  last  hope, 
Henry!" 

He  gave  a  dazed  nod,  bent  bravely  and  swung. 
The  roar  of  the  engine  cleft  the  air.  It  was  racing 
outrageously.  The  car  shook  convulsively  in  every 
fibre. 

"Twiddle — twiddle  the  things  on  the  thi All 

right,  leave  it  to  me.    Thank  God,  Stella;  oh,  thank 
God!" 

He  clambered  over  the  wing  into  his  seat.    Hope 


264  THE  DIPPERS 

and  energy  were  renewed  in  that  one  glorious,  life- 
giving  moment.  He  worked  throttle  and  ignition 
levers  in  blind  optimism.  The  engine  roared  and 
raced  more  loudly — subsided — heavens!  almost 
stopped — roared  anew.  He  seized  the  gear-lever, 
tugged  it.  There  was  a  fiendish  shriek  of  tortured 
steel.  He  glanced  downwards  and  pushed  one  foot 
resolutely  into  the  darkness  of  the  floorboards.  With 
a  jerk  which  dislocated  the  dressing-case,  the  car  leapt 
forward  a  yard,  jibbed  stiffly  and  halted.  Suddenly, 
like  a  barking  dog  smitten  into  silence,  the  engine 
ceased  to  run. 

"God  of  Battles!"  said  Talboyes. 

Mrs.  Tavistock  sat,  shaken  but  fearless,  clasping 
the  Gladstone  bag.  She  looked  at  him  quickly. 
There  was  no  resentment  in  her  face;  only  an  ap- 
pealing little  smile  of  anxious  encouragement. 

"Beastly  side-break  thing — damn — half  a  mo- 
ment," he  explained. 

He  climbed  out,  ran  forward,  bent  and  swung; 
back  to  the  steering-wheel  with  rasping  experiments; 
back  again  to  the  starting-handle  and  swung — the 
valves  hissed  mockingly. 

He  drew  himself  up  painfully,  choking.  He 
looked  up  again  towards  the  main  entrance  of  the 
Hall.  From  the  distance  came  the  echoes  of  banjos 
twanging  senselessly  on,  of  the  trap-drummer  rattling 
at  his  hackneyed  miscellany  of  targets.  To  Talboyes' 


THE  DIPPERS      .  265 

ears  the  sound  was  a  war-dance.  As  he  listened, 
striving  to  regain  his  breath,  he  seemed  to  hear  Lord 
Mellingham's  stentorian  call  to  action,  and  to  catch 
a  vision  of  the  guests  pausing  wide-eyed  in  the  dance, 
tearing  the  blunderbusses  from  the  walls  of  the  Ar- 
morial Hall  and  coursing  forth  in  an  excited  swarm 
to  the  pursuit. 

A  figure  disengaged  itself  from  the  little  group 
of  waiting  chauffeurs  and  moved  towards  him.  It 
was  almost  daylight.  At  any  moment  he  might  be 
discovered,  detained,  forced  to  drag  himself  and 
Stella  defeated  back  into  chaotic  inquisition  and  in- 
dignity. Blindly  he  stooped  and  swung. 

"Having  trouble,  'm?" 

Talboyes  looked  up  with  startled  eyes.  That  con- 
fident, cockney  voice  had  associations  of  res- 
cue. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Tavistock.  "We  borrowed  this 
car  to  take  us  to  the  station,  but " 

"To  the  station?  But — hallo,  why  it's  you,  sir, 
is  it?" 

"Yes,"  said  Talboyes,  "it  is." 

"You  seem  a  bit  in  trouble,  sir.  Can  I  do  any- 
thing? What  about  taking  the  lady  in  the  big 
car?" 

Talboyes'  heart  leapt  within  him. 

"Good  man!"  he  cried.  "And  you  can  take  me 
too." 


266  THE  DIPPERS 

"Oh,  I  thought  I  was  going  to  take  you  to  town, 
sir?" 

"No,  no,  no,  I'm  going  by  train." 

"Oh  ?"  said  the  chauffeur  doubtfully.  "What  train 
is  that,  sir?" 

"Why,  the  Milk  and  Wor— the— the  three-fifteen 
from  Mellingham  station.  I  say,  hurry  up,  won't 
you?" 

The  chauffeur  peered  at  his  wrist  watch  and 
whistled. 

"I  shall  have  to,"  he  said.  "I'm  afraid  you  won't 
do  it,  sir." 

Talboyes  quivered. 

"I  must,"  he  cried.  "And  this  lady  must,  even 
more  than  I  must,  though  we  both  must  about  as 
much  as  anybody  can  m — • — -  I  say,  get  your  car,  do. 
It's — it's  simply  imperative." 

The  chauffeur  buttoned  his  coat  enthusiastically. 

"I  like  a  good  old  run  for  it  meself,"  he  stated. 
"I'll  be  with  you  in  two  shakes,  sir." 

He  was  as  good  as  his  word.  In  two  shakes  Lord 
Mellingham's  proud  limousine  drew  up  alongside 
the  insignificant  and  road-worn  derelict  of  Hank 
Dipper.  Talboyes,  abject  with  exhaustion,  trans- 
ferred the  luggage  in  safety;  Mrs.  Tavistock  never 
releasing  her  secure  grasp  of  the  Gladstone  bag. 
The  limousine  moved  smoothly  forward. 

"Stella!"  said  Talboyes.  "I  believe  we  are  saved." 


THE  DIPPERS  267 

"Talk  to  me  in  the  train,  dear  Henry,"  she  re- 
plied 


The  early  rays  of  dawn  were  illuminating  the 
peaceful  valley  and  unveiling  the  deep  woods  beyond. 
The  miniature  railway  station,  with  its  deserted  yard 
and  cow-shed,  stood  forlorn  and  silent,  as  though 
painfully  aware  of  its  own  incongruity  in  the  sweet 
pastoral  landscape.  Far  down  the  valley  a  tiny 
cloud  of  smoke  hovered  on  the  still  morning  air,  and 
from  somewhere  indefinite  there  echoed  the  distant 
sounds  of  an  engine  at  a  loss  for  steam  and  the  dull 
clang  of  shunting  trucks. 

From  a  little  cottage  hard  by  the  station  yard,  the 
bent  figure  of  the  aged  porter  came  forth  with  the 
morning,  like  the  familiar  spirit  of  the  place.  He 
methodically  unlocked  and  inspected  the  out-building 
in  the  yard,  then,  stumping  moodily  to  the  yard  gate, 
he  opened  it  and  passed  through  to  the  cinder  track 
which  bordered  the  cow-shed.  The  torn  fragments 
of  a  child's  box-kite  lay  untidily  in  his  path.  Stoop- 
ing with  a  grunt  of  exertion,  he  gathered  them  up 
and  deposited  them  tidily  beneath  the  seat  in  the 
shed.  Unfastening  the  platform  gate,  he  took  up 
his  position  on  the  far  side  of  it,  gazing  with  a  frown 
of  anticipation  down  the  line. 

A  distant  signal  fell  with  an  accompanying  swish 


268  THE  DIPPERS 

of  wires.  The  porter  nodded  and  drew  his  fingers 
across  his  nose  with  an  air  of  satisfaction. 

Into  the  harmony  of  peaceful  meadows  clanged 
the  laborious  discord  of  the  Milk  and  Workmen. 
No  workmen  awaited  it  at  Mellingham  and  few 
elsewhere.  The  title  was  probably  an  exaggerated 
tribute  to  the  energy  of  the  local  sons  of  toil.  But 
three  milk-cans  stood  prepared  to  make  their  journey, 
and  the  porter,  turning,  inspected  the  labels  they 
bore  and  rolled  each  can  a  few  inches  nearer 
the  rails  as  the  train  steamed  heavily  towards 
him. 

It  arrived  and  drew  up  with  a  jerk  which  shook 
the  whole  line  of  vans  by  numbers.  The  engine  blew 
forth  a  great  volume  of  smoke  like  the  breath  of  a 
giant  halting  in  a  race.  The  porter  wheeled  his 
milk-cans  forward,  pausing  to  interchange  some  time- 
honoured  formula  with  the  guard. 

Slowing,  slowly  the  stowing  process  was  com- 
pleted, and  the  guard,  with  an  agonizing  air  of  de- 
liberate finality,  drew  the  van  door  to. 

Leaning  half  out  of  the  window  of  the  car,  as 
it  sped  down  the  hill  into  the  station  yard,  Henry 
Talboyes  witnessed  the  scene  with  almost  uncon- 
trollable anguish.  The  chauffeur  cocked  a  confident 
eye  on  the  train  and  steadied  the  headlong  impetus 
of  the  car.  Did  he  not  see  that  the  guard  was  al- 
ready making  semaphore  motions,  whistle  in  mouth? 


THE  DIPPERS  269 

"Toot,  toot!"  shouted  Talboyes.  "Toot  your 
hooter." 

The  chauffeur  complied.  The  guard  glanced 
round  apprehensively  and  dropped  his  arms.  The 
car  performed  its  grating,  semi-circular  skid  upon 
the  cinders  and  pulled  up. 

A  moment  of  preliminary  agitation  in  the  collec- 
tion of  baggage,  and  three  figures  rushed  on  to  the 
platform;  the  chauffeur  foremost  carrying  Mrs. 
Tavistock's  belongings;  next  that  lady  herself,  skip- 
ping lightly  along,  as  a  child  skips  for  joy;  in  the 
rear  Talboyes,  at  an  encumbered  trot,  hugging  in 
both  arms  his  bag. 

The  chauffeur  threw  open  the  door  of  the  nearest 
compartment  to  hand  and  placed  his  burdens  within. 
As  he  stepped  aside  Mrs.  Tavistock  sprang  nimbly 
after  them.  Along  came  Talboyes.  He  deposited 
his  bag  with  studied  care  on  the  platform  and  fum- 
bled at  his  breast  pocket. 

"Hurry  up  there,  please,"  called  the  guard. 

"All  right,  all  right,"  replied  TaTboyes.  "One 
m here  we  are." 

He  produced  an  oblong  case  containing  Treasury 
notes. 

"Ay,  be  you  a-goin'  be  this  yer  train?"  asked  a 
familiar  voice  at  his  side. 

He  shot  a  quick  glance  in  its  direction. 


270  THE  DIPPERS 

"Oh,  ye  gods!"  he  murmured.  "Here,  take  this 
quickly,  chauffeur." 

"Thank  yer,  sir,"  said  the  chauffeur. 

"Ay,  Aa  ain't  seen  your  tickuts,  ye  know;  ay,  an' 
4\a'm  gooin'  ter  see  them  tickuts " 

The  whistle  sounded.  The  engine  responded  with 
a  preliminary  heave  resulting  in  a  sullen  din  of 
vibrating  milk-cans.  Talboyes  turned  quickly.  The 
porter  was  stooping  menacingly  over  the  Gladstone 
bag. 

All  the  pent-up  agitation  in  Talboyes  found  fren- 
zied expression  in  one  desperate  moment. 

"If  you  touch  that  bag,"  he  cried,  "I'll  knock 
you  down." 

"Ay,  them  tickuts " 

Talboyes  seized  the  bag  and  threw  it  into  the  car- 
riage. Papers  flew  skimming  under  the  seats.  The 
train  lurched  forward.  He  jumped  on  to  the  moving 
footboard,  stumbled,  hung  on,  struggled  into  the  car- 
riage and  swung  the  door  to.  The  train  slackened 
,With  a  jerk.  The  porter's  face  appeared. 

"Ay,  this  yer  train  doan  goo " 

Talboyes  pulled  up  the  window.  It  was  an  ill- 
fitting  window  and  immediately  fell  again  with  a 
crash. 

"Doan  goo^— " 

Talboyes  pulled  up  the  window.     It  fell. 

"Doan  goo  ter  London,  ye  know." 


THE  DIPPERS  271 

"I  don't  care  where  it  goes,"  said  Talboyes,  "as 
long  as  it  goes  away  from  here." 

"Ay,  but  them  tick " 

Another  jerk.  The  train  moved  forward,  gath- 
ered speed.  Reluctantly  the  porter  released  his  hold 
of  the  door  handle. 

Mrs.  Travistock  was  lying  back  in  the  corner  seat, 
with  her  eyes  closed.  Her  lips  were  parted  in  a 
little  smile  of  bliss,  the  smile  of  one  seeking  rest 
after  wearying  pain.  Talboyes  sank  beside  her  and 
laid  his  head  on  her  shoulder.  As  he  did  so  he 
started  up  again  with  a  gasp. 

On  the  hill-side,  seen  through  the  carriage  window, 
the  proud  outlines  of  Mellingham  Hall  stood  sil- 
houetted in  the  grey  dawn.  Talboyes  shrank  from 
the  sight,  as  though  spellbound.  The  windows  still 
blazed  with  lights,  some  fixed  in  a  scandalized,  be- 
wildered stare,  some  flickering  with  the  activities  of 
outraged  discovery.  Above  the  methodical  thud  of 
the  train  his  ears  seemed  to  catch  once  more  the 
blasting  rattle  of  the  jazz  band,  the  dictatorial  ver- 
bosity of  the  lordly  host  and  the  gratified  bleating  of 
his  flock  of  tame  guests,  the  sharp  tone  of  Pauline, 
passing  with  callous  rapidity  from  allurement  to 
rebuke,  the  puzzled  twang  of  her  untimely  husband; 
and  a  sudden,  hideous  medley  of  all  these  sounds 
raised  in  a  cacophony  of  distracted  wrath  upon  his 
fugitive  head. 


272  THE  DIPPERS 

Then,  with  a  scream  of  glad  challenge,  the  engine 
of  the  Milk  and  Workmen  bore  gallantly  round  a 
steep  bend  of  the  track,  and  Mellingham  Hall  with 
its  hundred  lights  vanished  bodily  from  his  sight- 
as  in  a  dream. 


THE  END 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


FEB  2  0  19S|6 

SRLF 
2  WEEK  LOAN 


REC'D  C.L 


FEB13'96 


A     000133921     7 


University  of  Caj 

Southern  Regi 

Library  Facil 


